

UJG 20 1898 






















































































































































































































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4 « 


30 YEARS” 





The Ojibue Conquest; 
gin Jiuthm 


WITH 

OTHER WAIFS OF LEISURE HOURS. 


J. T. CLARK. 


t 


Souvenir Edition. 



Copyright, 1898, by 
JULIUS TAYLOR CLARK. 

1st COPY, 

1098. 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED* 

CXW - Vx - 


©ebicatefc 

TO 

MY DEAR WIFE AND CHILDREN 
WHOM GOD flAS GRACIOUSLY 
SPARED TO ME, — THE 
COMFORT OF MY 
FAILING 


YEARS, 















■ 

' 





















































































PREFACE. 



HE OJIBUE CONQUEST was written 
about a. d. 1845, while the author was 
spending some time among this tribe of 
Indians, under appointment of the Indian 
Department of the General Government. 

Soon after my return to my then home, at Madison, 
Wisconsin, I was visited by a native Indian Convert, 
who had been educated in one of the missionary 
schools, and who was engaged in an effort to raise 
funds to aid him in his work among his people. 
During my conversation with him concerning his 
tribe, I showed to him my manuscript relative to a 
portion of their history. As he was about to visit 
the eastern cities in behalf of his cause, he asked as 
a favor that I would permit him take a copy for pub- 
lication, and let him share in whatever profits might/ 
arise from it. Thinking that possibly he might be 
successful, I consented to his request. 

As I learned from his letters to me subsequently, 


VI 


PREFACE. 


he found it difficult to accomplish his purpose, and 
finally wrote to me that he would fail unless I per- 
mitted him to publish it in his own name. To this 
I replied that he was at liberty so to do. That was 
the last information I received from him ; and if it 
was published, I have never seen a copy, and have 
no means of knowing what success he may have ex- 
perienced. 

After fifty years of active professional and business 
life, during which the fact of the existence of the 
manuscript had practically passed out of my mem- 
ory, I came across a copy of it while overhauling a 
package of old letters and other documents, which 
had for years lain unopened. 

Potwin Place, 

Topeka, Kansas. 

A. D. 1898. 


QF all the numerous and ‘populous tribes of Indians found inhabit- 
ing the Northern part of the Western Continent at the time of 
its discovery , the Sioux and Chippewas, or, more properly , the 
Dakotas and Ojibues, alone retain anything like their original num- 
ber and character. Of these two tribes or nations, the Ojibues inhabit 
principally the country about Lake Superior, extending south to the 
country of the Menomonees, and in the west bordering on that of the 
Sioux, between whom and the Ojibues the Mississippi, in the lower 
portion, and its tributaries in the upper portion, form a common 
boundary. It is a fact well known to all who have travelled among 
them, or who are conversant with their history, that, according to their 
\ traditions and histories, as orally transmitted to the present age, all 
of the country lying south of Lake Superior once belonged to the 
j Sioux. By a constant warfare carried on for many years, and a suc- 
I cession of misfortunes and defeats, the Sioux were at length compelled 
j to abandon to their more fortunate enemies all of their possessions 
east of the Mississippi, and even a not inconsiderable portion on the 
west of its more northern sources. Tradition says that the last great 
and most decisive battle was fought on what is called the Island of 
Madeline (in the Ojibue, Moningueuna) , on which La Pointe now 
stands, and one of the group commonly known as the Twelve Apostles. 
It is on this circumstance that the following tale is founded. 
































































































































































































































































































































































































































The Ojibue Conquest. 

THE SAINT LOUIS. (1) 


i. 

There is a stream that hath its rise 
Beneath the veil of Northern skies, 

Where frost and snows eternal meet 
In fiercest mood, the wand’rer’s feet ; 

And all above, beneath, around 
Is fast in icy fetters bound ; 

A gloomy wild, a dreary waste 
As e’er the eye of man embraced ; 

Where shrub — if shrub perchance be there — 
Blooms not as elsewhere, fresh and fair, 

But stunted, bare and small of growth, 

It nestles to the earth as loath 
To spread its branches where the breeze, 

Which passes, kisses but to freeze ; 

l 


2 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


And if a flower should lift its head 
From such inhospitable bed, 

When thawing snows may yield a day 
To Summer sun’s resistless sway, 

It is a kind which doth not blight 
By frosts which clothe its leaves with white, 
But smiles e’en from its bed of snow, 

“ Like hope upon the lap of woe ” — 

The reindeer there roams fleet and free ; — 
And men as fleet and wild as he, 

Though small of size, of iron mould, 

No fear of storms, no thought of cold ; 

With limbs unchilled, unslackened pace, 
They fleetly follow in the chase 
From dawn till twilight paints the West, (2) 
Without a moment lent to rest ; 

Then stretched at length upon the snows — 
Till morn they find unbroke repose. 

Ah ! little knows the child of ease, 

Where everything is culled to please ; — 

To whose convenience every shore, 

From South to North, must yield its store ; 
And o’er whose well protected form 
There never beats the chilling storm ; — 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


3 


Ah ! little knows he of the woes 
Which gather round the life of those 
Who live in nature’s rudest mood, 

In those deep haunts of solitude ; — 

For though the tempest’s power hath naught 
To their bold hearts with terror fraught ; — 
Though youth and manhood and old age 
Succeed in their accustomed stage ; 

The body bared to every wind, 

The chase that leaves the deer behind, — 

The frequent want, the frequent fast, 

Break up life’s healthful flow at last, 

And leave a wreck ’tis sad to see, 

Of what was once so bold and free. 

II. 

Thou fair Saint Louis, such the scene 
From which thy waters flow ; 

But different far the land of green 
To which from thence they go. 

For many a long, long mile they speed, 
Through fairer, brighter lands ; 

Rapid and free like a noble steed 
Unchecked by rider’s hands — 


4 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


From their far source to where they pour 
Into Superior’s side, 

All is wild nature on thy shore, — 

Man hath not curbed thy tide ; — 

But on thou flowest in thy might 
Untainted as when God 
First called thee sparkling into light, 

At his creative nod. 

The vale through which thy waters sleep ; 
The forest shade, the craggy steep ; — 

The cataract whose thunder fills 
The echoes of a hundred hills; — 

The deep ravine, the precious mine 
Whose ores beneath thy current shine ; — 
Such is the path thy waters take, 

Ere lost within the ocean lake. 

0 ! often on thy limpid stream, 

Hid from the noontide’s sultry beam 
By trees whose giant branches cast 
A deep shade o’er me as I passed, 

Hath my light bark now danced along 
To music of some carolled song. 

Or floating like the lightest bird, 

It only with the current stirred 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


5 


While I have passed hour after hour 
Beneath the scene’s enchanting power, — 

The sweetest perfume on the air 
From thousand wild-flowers growing there ; — 
And colors of the brightest hue 
On every side that met the view. 

The wild rose with its sweets beguiling, 

Along thy banks so brightly smiling, 

Whose petals, falling on the wave, 

Their own hue to the current gave; — 

The mellow light of different dyes 
Which came from forest-shaded skies ; — 

The stillness over all that dwelt 
So deep it could almost be felt ; 

All these have held me many a day, 

A willing captive to their sway. — 

Oh ! who that has a heart to feel, 

Would barter one such hour as this, 

For all the gay world can reveal, 

Or all it ever knew of bliss. 

Pleasure ! In vain the precious gem 
Ye seek in fashion’s heartless throng; 

Ask those who seek it there, ask them 
Who vainly sought the phantom long, — 


6 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


There’s not a joy that throng can give, 

Which does not cost a pang more deep ; — 
There’s not a pleasure it bids live, 

But lulls some virtue into sleep. 

III. 

Many a year has passed away 
Since at the close of summer day, 

Upon a green and level side 
Which overlooks St. Louis tide, 

A noble band of warriors stood, 

Who roam at will this solitude. — 

The bow, the spear, the barbed dart, 

Which errs not, pointed at the heart; — 

The paint in nicest colors spread, 

Not for maid’s love, but foeman’s dread; — 
The plumes that in their braided hair 
Waved graceful at each breath of air; — 

The trophies in their battles taken, 

Where foeman’s prowess had been shaken ; — 
Each warrior there was decked with these, (3) 
Profuse as summer decks the trees. 

The foremost of this hero band 
A flag-staff carried in his hand, — 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


7 


Which, from its waving top displayed 
A flag most curiously made 
From feathers of the wild bird’s wing, (4) 
Of every shade of coloring. 

He was a youth in whom combined 
All that is grand in form and mind ; 

The noble forehead broad and high, 

The soul that shone within his eye, 

The limbs where strength was seen to dwell 
In every full yet graceful swell ; 

All these marked him as one of those 
Where nature’s fairest gifts repose ; 

Me-gis-si — such the name he bore ; 

The eagle of the lonely shore : 

And as he planted on the ground 
That pennon’s shaft amid the sound 
Of drum and song and echoing shout, (5) 
He looked like Mars himself, come out 
To take, as in the days of yore, 

The van upon the field of gore. — 

Around the pole with measured pace 
Each warrior found a ready place ; 

And soon the circling folds advance, 

And mingle in the wild war-dance ; 


8 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


While ever and anon a loud 
And piercing whoop rose from the crowd, 
Sending its accents shrill and clear 
In answering echoes far and near ; 

And when they died in air away, 

Each warrior in that dread array 
Stood like a statue planted deep ; 

So still and firm their tracks they keep ; 
While at each pause, a brave advanced 
Within the ring, then round him glanced, 
And in rude eloquence portrayed 
The havoc he in war had made ; — 

The feats of bravery he had done ; — (6) 
The scalps from slaughtered victims won ; 
As well of fallen warriors bold, 

As wife and child, — of these he told; 

And as he held them out to view, 

Some of them yet of fresh blood hue; 
And raised the war-whoop loud and high, 
With swelling breast and flashing eye ; 

He seemed again amid the strife, 

With which his tale had been so rife. — 
That morn had pealed the rolling drum 
Amid the cry “ They come, they come !” 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


9 


“ The Sioux ! the Sioux !” and at the sound 
Each warrior’s foot was on the ground ; 

And knife to knife and breast to breast, 

The doubtful strife they long contest. 

They fought as though their blood were water, — 
Resumed again when ceased the slaughter; — 
They fought like men whose deadly hate 
Nothing but death could satiate. — 

The Sioux at length were forced to yield, 

And leave the foe a hard-earned field. 

Some fled, and some were captive led : — 

Better to have been with the dead ; — 

Better by far, for though to-night 
They have from death a brief respite ; 

They’re not deceived, for well they know, 
To-morrow comes the fatal blow ; — 

It comes with all the cruel art 
Hate can invent to wring the heart ; 

When, should it quail or yield to fear, 

They die without a pitying tear ; — 

They die and meet the recreant’s end, 

Despised alike by foe and friend. 


10 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST. 


IV. 

The dance is o’er, the revel past, 

And of that savage host the last 
Has thrown himself upon the ground, 

And his accustomed slumber found. 

Close by their sides the captives slept; 

And watch or guard there none was kept ; — 
For, hand and foot securely tied, 

Vain were the efforts, had they tried, 

To shake from off their limbs the thong 
Which bound them in its folds so strong. — 
Vain did I say ? No ! one was there, 

Who though the bands he knew to wear, 
While eye of foe was on him bent, 

And to his skill a caution lent ; 

When watchful eyes were sunk to rest, 

And measured breathing heaved the breast, 
Could tear the shackles from his flesh, (7) 
As easy as the spider’s mesh. — 

The frosts of many winters sped, 

Had left their traces on his head ; 

His life, which passed in constant wars, 
Had marked him with a thousand scars : 
But every iron muscle told 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


11 


That vigor had not yet grown old ; — 

He might have lost youth’s spring and grace, 
But strength had well supplied their place. — 
Whether by force or magic spell 
His thongs were sundered, none could tell ; 
Yet never but for one brief hour 
Had they upon his limbs a power. — 

Among his native band long famed 
For feats of strength and magic art, 

He had, in their rude tongue, been named 
The Wendigo of Icy Heart. — (8) 

In this day’s strife of ancient foes, 

To which the night had brought a close, 

His heavy blows, which fell like rain, 

Had marked his track with heaps of slain ; — 
Through yielding ranks he held his pace, 

Till like the rock at whose firm base 
The ocean breaks in murmurs hoarse, 
Me-gis-si checked his onward course. 

As springs the tiger on his prey 

When pressed by hunger, so sprang they ; 

Reckless of all that might oppose, 

They rushed upon each other’s blows, — 

And grappled with a force they feel, 


12 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST. 


To which the grasp of vise of steel 
Would be an infant’s touch ; — the knife 
Then flashes quick in deadly strife. — 
They fought as though on them alone 
The issue of the day was thrown ; — 

They strove as though full well they knew 
With no mean foe they had to do ; — 

Each nerve to its last tension wrought, 
Like meeting thunderbolts they fought. — 
The Wendigo’s superior strength 
O’ercame youth’s suppleness at length ; 
And while Me-gis-si freely bleeds, 

He of the icy heart succeeds. — 

His blade is raised to strike the blow, 

The last he need to strike, — when, lo ! 

His threatening arm all sudden stops, 

And down, as by a palsy, drops. 

He stood a moment fixed and still, 

Then yielded at Me-gis-si’s will ; — 

And captive now and captor keeping 
Side by side, are calmly sleeping. 
Midnight had passed, and there they lay, 
In rest unbroke, that warrior band ; — 
The fearful conflicts of the day 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST. 


13 


Had now relaxed each iron hand. 

The moon, too, now had sunk to rest 
Behind the hills which skirt the West; — 
And damp mists from the river rose, 

And o’er the banks in circles close. 

A silence deep was over all, 

Except the noisy water-fall, 

That, indistinct by distance, fell, 
Alternately in ebb and swell : — 

When hush ! a careful hand is pressed 
Lightly upon Me-gis-si’s breast. — 

The touch awoke him ; quick as thought 
He sprang upon his feet and caught 
Within one hand his ready blade, 

The other was on the foeman laid ; 

But when he saw in what calm mood 
The Wendigo before him stood, — 

He did not strike, but for a space 
They looked within each other’s face; — 
Me-gis-si with a mingled feeling 
Of awe and wonder o’er him stealing, 
And which he could not all conceal 
By the dim light, the stars reveal ; — 
Sternness and dignity alone 


14 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST. 


Upon the other’s features shone. 

The Wendigo the silence broke, 

As (scarce above his breath) he spoke : 
“Youth, are you brave! then follow me (9) 
Thus saying, turning carefully, 

And with a step that had no sound 
To wake the foemen sleeping round, 

He passed, and striding on before, 

Pursued the winding trail that bore 
Through wild grass of a growth most rank, 
Along the river’s sloping bank. 

Me-gis-si for a moment cast 
His eyes upon him as he passed, 

Irresolute, then quickly sped 
Along the track the other led : 

And now by the dim starlight they 
Together hold their silent way. 

V. 

A league was passed yet on they went ; 
Whate’er their thoughts, they had no vent; 
But mute they still their way pursued 
Deeper within the solitude. 

At length the youth impatient grown, 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST. 


15 


Stopped and exclaimed in hasty tone, — 

“ That I am brave no longer thou 
Canst doubt from what thou seest now ! 
If thou hadst not that lesson learned, 

By yesterday’s experience earned. 

The distance now precludes all fear 
Of treacherous hand or listening ear ; 
Then tell thy wish, whate’er it be, 

Thou’lt find no coward heart in me. 
Speak ! or this knife may chance to wear 
Another sheath than that I bear.” 

“ Peace, fool!” replied the Wendigo, 

As quick he turned and struck a blow 
That sent the spinning blade so well, 
They could not hear it where it fell : 

“ Check thy hot blood, nor deem that I 
Have brought thee here for treachery. 
Think you, had I desired your life, — 

Ere you awoke could not my knife 
Have borne to your unconscious breast 
The blow that brings eternal rest ? 

I have a tale will pierce thy heart 
Deeper than foeman’s barbed dart. 

Doubt not, but follow me ;” and then 


16 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


Turned to pursue the trail again ; 

Nor long pursued before around 
A bold and rocky point it wound, 

Which sent its craggy summit high 
Aloft into the dusky sky, 

And terminated in a cove 

Formed by the arching rocks above.— 

Here entered they and on a rock, 

Torn from the roof by some rude shock, 
They took their seat ; a wilder spot 
Throughout the mountain world is not, 
Than that which now their vision bounded, 
Than that by which they were surrounded ; 
While far away beneath the ground, 

There came a hoarse and gurgling sound 
Of water, into fury lashed, 

As o’er some precipice it dashed. 

The owl, scared by their entrance, fled, 

And screamed its notes above their head : 
Lank wolves whose den the cave had been, 
Prowled round them as they entered in ; — 
While just without the cavern’s door 
The waters of Saint Louis roar, 

As o’er the dizzy fall they flow, 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


17 


And then an hundred feet below, 

With deafening sound they break and boil 
In endless strife and wild turmoil. 

“ Here, in this dark and gloomy grot,” — 
The Wendigo began — “ A spot 
Where oft ’tis said, the Manitou 
Unveils himself to human view, 

And smiles or frowns as he discovers 
Of truth or falsehood they are lovers ; 

Here let us rest, while I disclose 
A tale may change to friends thy foes ; — 
And the Great Spirit do by me 
As I shall deal in truth with thee. 

VI. 

“ You wonder that I brought you here; — 

I cannot tell you half how dear 
Is this wild spot to me ; — strange chance 
Which brings again within my glance, 

The scenes where long, long winters past, 
When the quick blood of youth flowed fast, 
I wandered with my bow well strung, 

And quiver o’er my shoulder flung ; — 

And if my arrow rightly sped 
3 


18 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


When pointed at the wild bird’s head, 
Whatever fortune might betide, 

My merry heart was satisfied. 

Here, too, in after years I roved 
In fondness with the bride I loved. 

This was our home till that foul day 
When the accursed Ojibue 
Rushed down upon us, scattering death, 
Like evil spirits’ poisoned breath ; 

And with false heart and bloody hand 
Drove us from our paternal land. 

Thou knowest well the hatred strong 
Hath dwelt between our nations long ; — 
And from this land where now you see 
The curs’d Ojibue roving free, 

Thou knowest by that hated race 
The Sioux was driven, till no place, 

By stream or mountain now is left 
Of which he hath not been bereft. 
Strange chance ! Upon that very steep, 
Where those, we left so lately, sleep, 

My wigwam stood. — My bride as bright 
As the unclouded moon at night, 
Apuckways from soft rushes wove, (10) 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


19 


And sang sweet songs which spake of love, 
While by her side, with prattling joy, 
Gambolled with happy heart our boy. 

It was a bright midsummer day ; — 

They were alone ; — I was away 
Upon the wild deer’s track : — night fell, 

And I returned, — but who can tell 
The anguish of that hour ! I came 
To see my wigwam in a flame ; — 

My wife was slain, the purple tide 
Was oozing yet warm from her side ; — 

But still so sweet was the faint smile 
Which shone upon her face the while, 

I could not deem her dead, but flung 
Myself upon the ground and clung 
To her loved side, kissing away 
The crimson drops of blood that lay 
Sprinkled upon her pallid cheeks ; 

And then in wild and broken shrieks 
I fondly called upon her name; — 

I called in vain ! no answer came ; 

I kissed her lips, but closed in death 

Those lips from which there came no breath. — 

I sought my boy, but he was gone, 


20 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


And I in anguish and alone 

Stood like an oak the Th underbird (11) 

Had riven at the Spirit’s word. — 

Till that day, passion’s fearful blast 
Had never o’er my spirit passed ; — 

No angry strife, no withering care, 

No burning curse had entered there. 

My bride, my boy, they were the springs 
That ever nerved my spirit’s wings. — 

But as I stood and wept to view 
Her own heart’s blood my bride bedew, 
And thought upon the hated foe 
Whose arm had dealt the murderous blow, 
Dark thoughts within my soul found place 
In strange and lightning-like embrace. 
Horror and anguish and despair 
Mingled in wild confusion there ; 

But these at length gave place to one 
Deep burning passion, that alone 
Took full possession of my breast. 

Revenge ! Revenge ! How I caressed 
The darling thought ! All else that life 
Deems worthy of a mortal’s strife 
Were swallowed up in this wild thirst 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


21 


For vengeance on the foe accursed. 

I knelt upon the turf beside 
The murdered body of my bride, 

And with one hand upon her head, 

The other with her warm blood red; 
There, in the presence of the dead, 

I vowed my first and latest breath 
To hate to vengeance and to death. — 
Winters have passed, and it is now 
Long since I made that fearful vow ; 

But never since that fatal hour 
Hath it a moment lost its power. — 

How well it hath been kept, let those 
Fallen beneath my arm disclose. 

Revenge ! It is a powerful charm 
To steel the heart and nerve the arm ; 

To give the foot unwonted speed ; 

And to the eye, in hour of need, 

A lynx-like quickness ; — such I’ve proved 
The passion that within me moved. 

An hundred warriors hath this hand 
Already sent to that far land 
Where wander Shadows of the dead (12) 
By the dim light auroras shed. 


22 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


Thine would have been among the rest, 
But that I marked upon thy breast 
That which withheld my ready blade, 
Just as it gleamed above thy head, — 

My bride had in our happy hours 
Marked with the dyes of various flowers 
Such as our tribe alone employ, 

Our totem on our little boy. — (13) 

I saw upon thy breast that sign ; — 

I knew it well ; — yes, thou art mine ; 

My long lost child. Thy purple veins 
No foul Ojibue blood sustains ; — 

O’er thy bold form there is no trace 
Of that despised snake-hearted race ; 
Who not contented our fair land 
To desolate with knife and brand, 

Must yet our very sons engage 
Contests against their sires to wage. — 
But theirs no more thy iron nerve ! 
Rather than thou that foe should serve, 
My blade shall penetrate thy heart, 

E’en though my only child thou art. 

If yet a single spark remains 
Of noble impulse in thy veins, 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


23 


And contact with the Ojibue 
Hath not extinguished the last ray 
Of the proud spirit of thy sires ; 

Now, e’er the waning night expires, 

Swear to revenge the wrongs I bear, 

And hers — thy murdered mother’s, — swear !” 
The old man ceased, — and had the light 
Permitted him the welcome sight, 

He would have seen that haughty ire 
Which lent his eye its dazzling fire, 

The features of the youth reveal, 

As thus he answered the appeal. 

“ By the dread Manitou who dwells 
Within these arched and craggy dells ; — 

By her whose bright and watchful eye 
Was o’er me bent in infancy, 

I swear!” The echoes of the word 
Along the cavern’s roof were heard; 

And when they died away, a sigh 
Soft as when evening winds pass by ; — 

Sweet as the Swan’s expiring notes, (14) 

Upon the air around them floats. 

“ Hush !” said the Wendigo, “ It is 
My bride come from her bower of bliss, 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


In the far country of the dead, 

To breathe a blessing o’er thy head. 

Thou shadowy spirit ! for whose sake (15) 
I live both when I sleep and wake ; — 
Whose influence in rest or strife 
Hath been the guide-star of my life, 

And to revenge whose wrongs no pain, 

No torture could my hand restrain ; — 
Delay thy flight to the bright shore 
Which waits thy coming, till once more, 
As in that bitter day, I swear, 

For every tress of thy fair hair 

Which decked thy head when laid so low, 

I’ll pluck a scalp from that of foe. 

Spirit ! let this thy sadness cheat, 

Till, shadows both, again me meet.” (16) 

VII. 

Upon a mountain whose high peak 
The very heavens seems to seek ; 

Which rises on the southern shore, 

And looks Superior’s waters o’er, 

Are gathering now the few who fled 
When yesterday so illy sped. — 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


25 


Though the gray dawn of morn appeared 
Ere from the cave their course they steered; 
And many a long mile lay between 
This place and where the strife had been ; — 
And though there yet an hour doth lack 
Ere the sun reach his mid-way track ; 

The gathered ranks already show 
Me-gis-si and the Wendigo. — 

Quickly they come and silent meet, 
Without a word or look to greet ; — 

But each as up the steep he wound, 

Threw himself mutely on the ground, 

Till, of that scattered band, the last 
Had to his place in silence passed. 

No darkly agitating trace 
Could be discovered on the face 
Of ardent youth or furrowed age 
To tell of passion’s inward rage; 

But every brow was calm and stern, 
Whatever smothered fires might burn. — 
The Wendigo to whom the lead, 

As well in council as in deed, 

Had long been given as his due, 

For wisdom deep and courage true, 

4 


26 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


Slowly arose. There was no burst 
Of passion in his words at first, 

But calmly over each event 

That marked their recent strife, he went ; 

And e’en his voice grew sadly mild, 

As his words turned upon his child, 
Whom the great Manitou, he said, 

Had now restored as from the dead ; — 
From which the cheering hope he drew, 
Although their numbers might be few, 
The Manitou was still their friend, 

And would not fail them in the end, 

A hallowed cause like theirs to bless 
With signal and complete success. — 

But when he dwelt upon the wrong 
Which they had now endured so long, 
From the foul race of Ojibue, — 

And pointed to the land that lay 
Far as the eye around could roam, 

And told them that was once their home, 
But home from which they were expelled, 
And now by hated foemen held ; — 

The powers which in his bosom reigned, 
But which, till then, he had restrained, 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST. 


27 


Burst forth, and like heaven’s lightning glowed, 
While every working feature showed 
The fearful torrent-like control 
Which passion held within his soul. 

Like fire when over prairie rushing, — 

Or torrents from a mountain gushing, 

The impulse of his own was press’d 

With light-like speed from breast to breast. — 

No bosom there but was on fire; — 

No heart which did not glow with ire ; — 

And when he ceased, in such dread yell 
Upon the air their war-whoop fell, 

The wild beast from his covert fled, 

The wild birds screamed above their head, 

And long when from their lips it died, 

It echoed down the mountain’s side. — 

A free discussion then arose, 

For every warrior to propose 
What to each one might seem to show 
The best advantage o’er the foe.— 

At no great distance to the right, 

And only hidden from their sight 
By rocky bluffs which ledge on ledge 
Abrupt rose from the water’s edge, 


28 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


Within a large and quiet bay 
A clustering group of islands lay. — 

Here scattered o’er the banks of green 
And shady groves, there might be seen 
Many a lodge, whose bark so white (17) 
Was sending back the noonday light. — 
Upon these isles the Ojibue, 

Since from their homes they drove away 
The conquered Sioux, had dwelt secure, 
And deeming it at once a sure 
And safe retreat, had gathered all 
Incessant warfare did not call 
To deeds, from deeds already done, 

To keep the land thus bravely won. 

To this fair spot each heart was turned ; 
And every warrior’s bosom burned 
To win again those long lost isles, 

And live within their quiet smiles. — 
Here then each heart resolved, as soon 
As reached to-morrow’s sun its noon, 

To strike a blow should free the land 
From the accursed foeman’s hand ; 

Or fighting till the last was slain, 

Leave their hearts’ blood upon the plain. 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


29 


VIII. 

The day that dawned upon the foe 
Me-gis-si and the Wendigo 
Had left ; while all unconscious rest 
Was reigning over every breast, 

Awoke the encampment’s busy hum ; 

And at the sound of signal drum 
The warriors gathered round their chief, 

Whose look was stern, whose words were brief ; 
He waved his hand, and quick as thought 
A shaft of stoutest oak was brought 
And planted deeply in the ground : — 

To this, with winding thongs were bound 
The captives whose unhappy fate 
Must gratify their captors’ hate. — 

But where is he who always bore 
The foremost honors heretofore ? — 

And where the noble captive he 
Had led in late won victory ? 

Strange, that he comes not, — he whose hand 
Was ever first to light the brand ; — 

And by whom were the victims tied, 

None ever knew the knots to slide ; — 

Me-gis-si, favorite of all, 


30 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


Why comes he not at chieftain’s call ? — 
And why lags he the rest behind ?— 
These are the questions rapidly 
From lip to lip are heard to fly. — 

By the Ojibue ’tis believed 
That when a mortal hath received 
A rigorous and lonely fast, — 

And days and nights in watching passed 
And who hath long withdrawn his mind 
From all communion with his kind, 

And hath within the forest’s shade, 

His home with Evil Spirits made ; — 
Learning from them each magic art 
Which they to mortals can impart ; — 
And hath his heart darkly imbued 
With all of ill and naught of good ; — 
These do a fearful power instil 
Beyond all merely human skill, 

Freedom at wish the form to change ; — 
The water, earth, or air to range, — 

And most of all a savage greed 
On human flesh and blood to feed. 

Thus when an hour or more is sped 
And yet no trace of whither fled, 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


31 


They doubt not that the mighty Sioux 
With whom Me-gis-si had to do, 

Was one of these, and deem full well 
Their favorite by his magic fell. 

The unhallowed rites no longer wait 
Their thirst for blood to satiate ; 

But with redoubled zeal are made, 
Because unwillingly delayed. 

Nothing their vengeance could suggest 
To daunt the heart or wring the breast, 
But was prepared with savage art 
In the dire scene to bear a part. — 

The fagots at the victims’ feet ; 

The scourge, their naked flesh to beat ; 
The arrows, of the pine well dried, — 

The bow, to hurl them in their side ; 

And as the flames around them rise, 
Burning augment their agonies. — 
Tortures like these they do not lack, 

The victim’s outward sense to rack;— 

But more tormenting far are those 
Designed to wake his inward throes. — 
The taunt, the gibe, — the goading sneer, — 
The insulting charge of coward fear ; — 


32 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


Imbecile strength the bow to bend, 

And erring skill the shaft to send ; — 

A soul which could not look on pain, 

And hands which had no foeman slain ; — 
Limbs bowed with fear and not with years, — 
And eyes which shone not but with tears ; — 
Such were the taunts upon them hurled, 

As o’er their forms the hot blaze curled. — 
What sounds are those which fill the air 
Above all others echoing there ! 

As doth the cataract’s loud roar 
The brook which murmurs at its shore ; 

Or thunders bursting through the sky, 

The owlet’s hoarse and startled cry : — 

It is the victims’ death-song shout, 

Which bursts from their firm bosoms out ; 
Casting defiance at their foes, 

And mocking at the torturing throes 
Their direful vengeance would bestow. — 

The hissing flames which round them glow 
To break their courage have no power, 

But firm and brave as in the hour 
When victory hath enwreathed their brow, 
The same bold spirit nerves them now. — 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


33 


The noble deeds they have performed, 

And noble thoughts their hearts have warmed ; 
The sunset land so bright and fair, 

Which waits to bid them welcome there ; — 
Such is the burden of their song, 

Which swells in such proud notes along. 

Brave sons of nature! Ye need not, 

To make you at such moments what 
Hath been, — will be while time succeeds, 

And hearts are tuned to noble deeds, 

The admiration of mankind ; 

Ye need not in the mazes wind 
Of the philosophy of schools 
To teach you the eternal rules 
Of fortitude and self-control, 

And all which doth exalt the soul. 

Fainter and fainter, yet still clear, 

That death -song falls upon the ear 
Of those who dance around the fires, 

Where bravery such as this expires. 

At length each victim’s voice is still, 

And vengeance now hath drunk its fill. 

0 how revolting to the mind 

By hallowed sciences refined 
5 


34 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


The bloody rites which thus disgrace 
The savage and unlettered race! 

Till tamed of these, the fiercest beast 
That roams the forest for its prey, 

And makes on blood and flesh its feast, 
Hath less ferocity then they. — 

The fires are out, — the warriors gone, 

And Mon-in-gueu-na, ere the sun 
Sinks to his couch behind the West, 

Their barks upon thy shores shall rest. 

IX. 

The sun had set ; — the clouds which fringed 
The sky were gorgeously tinged 
With gold and purple and all dyes 
Which make the summer sunset skies 
So lovely, and whose rays impart 
To every pure and noble heart 
Such chastened, hallowed thoughts as are 
Akin to the soft light which there 
Beams forth so beautiful and bright, 

Sweet herald of approaching night ! — 

O’er the calm waters of the bay, 

Where the Ojibues’ island lay, 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


35 


Those rays are glanced in many a track, 

To the bright clouds which send them back, 
Beneath the waters where they glow, 
Forming a mimic heaven below. — 

0 ! that such hallowed scenes as this 
Should ever look on aught but bliss ! 

When the freed soul hath felt the power 
Of this enchanting, soothing hour, 

To wipe out every stain which care 
Or sin hath left corroding there ; 

0 ! why will it again return, 

To drink from the polluted urn 
With which vile pleasures still allure 
The bosoms thus once rendered pure ! — 
This lovely scene has passed away, 

And the last tints of dying day 
Are fading from the Western skies, 

When Mon-in-gueu-na, there arise 
Along thy shores voices of wail, 

Whose accents through thy lovely vale 
Are sorrowful and plaintive spread ; 

It is the wailing for the dead ! — (18) 

When the light barks the rest that bore, 
Sped rapidly upon thy shore, 


36 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


A maiden band was there to find 
If brother, lover stayed behind ; 

And as they found them there or not, 
With joy or grief they left the spot ; 

And now when the faint twilight spreads 
Its sombre veil above their heads, 

The voice of mother, sister, bride, 

Is mingled in the plaintive tide, 

For those they may not meet again, 

Who sleep upon the battle-plain. 

But one was there from whose distressed 
And wildly agitated breast 
No wailing broke ; — she could not weep ; 
Her agony was all too deep ; 

Me-me, fair child of light and love ! (19) 
Lovely and beautiful above 
All earthly power to describe ; — 

In the soft language of her tribe (20) 

She had most fittingly been styled 
The dove ; so innocent and mild, 

Were all that nature had impressed 
Within her young, untutored breast. 

No thought which was not pure and good 
Could in her gentle heart intrude ; 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


37 


No passion angels might not own 
Had ever in her dark eyes shone ; 

But all was hallowed, chaste and bright 
As heaven’s own celestial light. 

The form which held that soul, no less 
Was one of passing loveliness. 

A child of nature, — every grace 
That it could give, in her had place ; 
Where beauty both of form and mind 
In loving harmony combined. 

In such love’s fountain must be deep, 
When that sweet passion wakes from sleep, 
And the heart trembles with the weight 
Of passion which it hath in freight. 

Such was the love, — so pure, so deep, 
Me-gis-si from its dreamy sleep 
Had wakened never more to rest, 

To live within her gentle breast. — 

They loved as mortals never should. 

To stake the whole life hath of good 
Upon one cast, and see that fail ! 

No human power can then avail 
To soothe the breaking heart, and bring 
Relief to life’s long suffering. 


38 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


And thus, when he whose smiles could give 
All for which she could wish to live 
Came not, — and as she feared, no more 
His smiles would greet her as of yore, 

An anguish, tongue would fail to tell, 

Then darkly o’er her sad heart fell. — 

There was a sweet secluded spot, 

A gentle slope which slightly shot 
With sloping bank into the bay, 

Where often at the close of day, 

Apart from those whose noisy mirth 
Had in it all too much of earth, 

For pleasures of that hallowed kind 
Which love had in their hearts enshrined, 
She and Me-gis-si passed the hours 
In weaving garlands of bright flowers, 

And circling with love’s trembling hand 
Around their brows the fragrant band ; 

Or breathing in each other’s ear 
The tender words they loved to hear ; 

He with a deep and noble feeling, 

His passion’s fervent strength revealing ; — 
While she with less of words perchance, 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


39 


But with a bright enrapturing glance 
From her full eyes, responsive turned ; 
Or, leaning fondly on his breast, 

She sang the dying day to rest. 

Now while, with melancholy swell 
The dirge upon the night air fell, 

She sought this spot, and seated there, 
Upon her hands she bowed her fair 
And gentle face, o’er which was spread 
The marble paleness of the dead. 

Ah ! Me-me, none can ever know 
The full extent of that deep woe 
Which wrung thy heart, until the hour 
When they, like thee, have felt its power ! 
While thus she sat, a bark appeared, 

And to this spot its swift course steered ; 
A moment, and its prow was fast 
Upon the shore, and from it passed 
A tall and noble form, who went 
With gentle steps, and silent bent, 

In saddened fondness by her side. 

She saw him not, for sorrow’s tide 
Had swept across her heart, until 
Her senses sank beneath its chill. 


40 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


But when her name he fondly spoke, 

She raised her head, “ Me-gis-si!” broke 
In joyful accents, as she sprung 
And round his neck in transport clung. 
The sudden joy his presence brought, 
Upon her heart so overwrought, 

Her consciousness fled with the shock ; 
And now like ivy to the rock, 

She lay in sweet unconscious rest, 
Entwined around her lover’s breast. 

And when at length her eyes unclosed 
To his, on whose breast she reposed, 

The look was all so mild and sweet, 

With which those eyes her lover’s greet, 
As though their light beamed from a soul 
Into which heaven’s sunshine stole. — 

“ To what a fearful weight of grief, 
Beloved, thou hast brought relief 
Thus she began, — “ I ask not what 
The reason why thou earnest not 
When others of our tribe returned, 

From whom the fearful tale I learned 
That thou hadst fallen beneath the art 
Of one of those of Icy heart ; 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 

Once in the power of whose dread spell 
None e’er returned his fate to tell. 

It is enough for my glad heart 
To know that here again thou art ; 

That oft in this our loved retreat, 

With gladsome hearts we yet may meet 
I to tell o’er and o’er to thee 
How very dear thou art to me, 

And thou to fold me to thy breast, 

And say thou art in that love blest. — 

0, when we meet at times like this, 

It seems as though the whole of bliss 
Which ever in the bright world shone 
Gathers in my poor heart alone ! 

To gaze in fondness on thy brow, 

And feel thy heart as I do now, 

Beneath my own so wildly beat, 

To hear thy words so soft and sweet ; 
Call me, as oft they do, thy bride ; 

0, what hath earth to give beside ! 

When will the war-cry cease to grieve 
My heart, because it bids thee leave, 
While I, in anxious dread, each day, 

Come to this lonely spot to pray, 

6 


42 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


Until it seems my heart would break, 

To the Great Spirit for thy sake. 

Say, must thou yet again expose 
Thy life among those cruel foes, 

The fearful Sioux ; — but ah, love ! why 
Breaks from thy bosom that deep sigh ! 

Has thy heart any care ; — ah, say, 

And let me kiss that care away.” 

She said, and with her fingers fair, 

She brushed away the raven hair 
Which o’er his forehead clustering strayed, 
And then upon his brow she laid 
Her gentle lips ; — Me-gis-si felt 
His purpose falter as he knelt, 

And for a moment he forgot 
His sad inexorable lot ; 

So sweet the thrill that kiss had sent 
Through his sad heart ; — and when he bent 
His eyes upon her lovely face, 

And saw how deep and pure the trace 
Of trusting love in every look, 

His bosom heaved and his soul shook 

With the intensity of pain 

Its breaking cords had to sustain, 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 

As rushing thoughts again impress 
The withering, blighting consciousness 
That he no more upon that smile 
Which had such power to beguile, 

Could in the bliss of former days 
Fix his full soul’s adoring gaze. 

Alas ! he knew the dream was past, 

And this fond look must be his last. 

He knew that should those eyes beam yet 
When he was gone, as when they met, 

He could not, must not, from their light, 
Receive, as he had done, delight. 

He knew if yet that cheek should wear 
The hallowed smile which now was there, 
The thrills of rapture they impart 
Must fall upon another’s heart. 

“ If those eyes beam ! if that cheek glow ! 
Alas ! he doth too sadly know 
His presence only can awake 
Those smiles which beam but for his sake 
That he alone can give the light 
Without which they will sink in night. 
’Twas this which gave the deadliest sting 
To all his soul was suffering. 


44 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


If he alone might meet the blow, 

And his heart only feel the woe ; 

If on his own the blight might rest, 

And leave unscathed her tender breast, 

He could sustain the scathing stroke, 

And firmly meet it like the oak 
Whose trunk lightnings indeed might break, 
But whose firm roots they could not shake. 
But that the misery he knew 
Should tear her heart asunder too ; 

0, that was torture all too deep ! 

He felt these thoughts in tumult sweep 
Across his brain. — And when at length 
A powerful effort called the strength 
Into his prostrate heart again, 

And he so far o’ercame its pain 

As to in broken words relate 

The tale he knew must seal their fate; 

It was with accents so subdued, 

In spite of all his fortitude, 

As though, at every word he spoke, 

A cord within his sad heart broke. 

“ Ah, Me-me ! thou hast been and art 
The sparkling dew-drop of my heart, 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST. 


45 


Beneath whose brightness I have felt, 
In that of love, all feelings melt. 

0, ’twas a rapturous dream that stole 
So sweetly, purely o’er my soul ! 

But Me-me, that bright dream has fled, 
And all our fondest hopes are dead. — 
0, what but thee and this dear spot 
Would I not give, could I but blot 
From memory all that hath passed 
Since in this bower we parted last ! 

I’ve struggled, but it is in vain ; — 

The fire is in my heart and brain, 

And will not cease its torturing strife, 
Until extinguished with my life. 

Thou knowest the totem I have borne 
Is not such as by thy tribe worn ; 

That we, unknowing what its name, 
Have often wondered how it came 
That I alone have worn a crest 
Differing so strangely from the rest. — 
’Tis strange no more, the battle-field 
The wonder hath at length revealed : 
And thy fond lover hath his sire 
Among that foe whom thy tribe’s ire 


46 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


Hath driven from their native land, 

A scattered, but unconquered band. 

Yes, Me-me, I am one of those, — 

Thy nation’s fiercest, deadliest foes ; 
Whom but a moment since, so true, 

Thou didst well term the fearful Sioux. 
Fearful they are, and will be yet 
To those who shall their path beset. — 
Thou knowest between this tribe of thine, 
And that which henceforth must be mine, 
Exists a hatred strong as death ; 

Resigned not even with their breath : 
Judge then if they could e’er abide 
To see the Dove the Eagle’s bride. 

Alas ! Me-me, it may not be ; 

And were it not, my love, for thee, 

I could rejoice that my firm nerve 
To direful vengeance yet might serve 
For her whose soft and gentle lays 
Were carolled to my infant days ; 

But whom the Ojibue beguiled, 

And robbed at once of life and child. 

And I have sworn my soul to give 
To retribution while I live. 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


47 


But short the moments which remain, 
Before that vow will be in vain. 
To-morrow’s sun shall see its beam 
Flashed back in many a war-knife’s gleam, 
And yonder waters on whose breast 
The moonbeams now so sweetly rest, 

Shall drink, before the day shall close, 

The mingled blood of warring foes ; 

And I shall be amidst the strife, 

But not as erst against the life 
Of sire and kindred warriors, — no ! 

My arm must find more fitting foe. — 
Something forewarns me that my blood 
Shall mingle with to-morrow’s flood ; 

I feel it now within my heart ; 

To-night for the last time we part ; 

And yonder stars which shine so bright, 
When they come out another night, 

Will look upon my bleeding form 
No longer with life’s pulses warm ; 

And that brow cold and damp in death, 

So lately hallowed by thy breath. — 

But let it come ! Why should I live, 

When life hath nothing now to give 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST. 

But blighted hopes and vain regrets, 

And every lingering sun that sets 

Adds only to the bitter store 

With which the heart was charged before. 

Yet, 0 how happy ! — were it not 
That this inexorable lot 
Hath interposed its withering blight 
Between my heart and all that’s bright ; 

How happy to observe each day 
Beneath thy sweet smiles pass away ; — 

To feel thy warm breath on my cheek ; — 

To see thee, love thee, hear thee speak, 

And shield thy tender heart from all 
Which on it might too rudely fall ; — 

Bright picture of our former days ; 

But one on which I must not gaze. 

I’ve braved both friend’s and foeman’s power 
For the enjoyment of this hour ; 

To bathe my soul once more in light, 

Ere it sinks into endless night.” — 

He paused and closer to his breast 
The maiden’s form he wildly pressed, 

As if that pressure could keep under 
A heart which else would burst asunder. 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


49 


And there they stood, that hapless pair, 
The victim each of mute despair ; 

Yet how exalted, noble, pure, 

The anguish which their souls endure ! 
When mortal bosoms swell like this, 

With feelings boundless, fathomless, 
There’s something so immortal there, 

That e’en though springing from despair, 
The heart would scarce desire repose, 

If purchased at the life of those. — 

As thus her lover’s words conveyed 
The destiny that o’er them weighed ; 

And when at length she knew the worst, 
And the full truth upon her burst, 

A pang shot through her heart and brain ; 
But one, — and all was still again ; 

But with that pang had fled all sense 
Of joy or pain, forever hence. 

’Twas so intense, no other grief 
Could wake a throb, however brief ; 

And then a holy calmness came, 
Succeeding to the passion’s flame 
Which had so brightly till that hour 

Maintained within her breast its power. 

7 


50 


THE OJIB UE CONQ UEST. 


It was a calmness which had birth 
In the conviction that the earth, 

With all its pleasure, all its sweet, 

Had nothing which could ever cheat, 

Even for one brief moment’s flight, 

The sadness of her bosom’s blight. — 

From his embrace she raised her head, 
Drooping like lily o’er its bed, 

And gently loosed her from the clasp 
- Convulsive of Me-gis-si’s grasp, 

And spake, with look so sweet and mild, 

It might almost be said she smiled ; 

But such a smile as one might trace 
Upon the cold and marble face 
Of one whose spirit had just riven 
The bars which bound its flight to heaven. 
“ Me-gis-si, 0 how gladly I 
Would lay this body down to die 
Could it but bring again to thine 
The joy which can no more be mine ! 

Let not thy Me-me’s broken heart 
One sorrow to thine own impart; 

But go, forget that ever we 
Have loved so true, so tristfully. 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


51 


Thy duty calls, then be it so ; 

And let no thought of me e’er throw 
Across thy breast a single cloud, 

The sunshine of its peace to shroud. 

What though this fate shall blight my powers, 
Like early frosts the gladsome flowers, 

And my poor body find its rest 
Full soon upon the earth’s cold breast : 

My spirit still shall hover near ; 

And this its only thought, to cheer 
And pour most fondly into thine 
The light which in itself shall shine. — 

Yes, go — forget that we have met ; 

Or if thou canst not all forget, 

Think of it as a dream which stole, 

In night’s calm hours, into thy soul ; 

Whose memory perchance may cling 
Around thy softened heart, and fling 
A shade of sadness which you may 
Not altogether chase away, 

But which thou shouldst not let control 
The strength or bravery of thy soul. 

No, if thou canst not banish all, 

And memory will at times recall 


52 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


The gladsome hours our hearts have known, 
Thrilled by each other’s look and tone, 

Then let thy fond thoughts only dwell 
On this, — thy Me-me loved thee well ; 

And only look on those sweet hours 
As thou wouldst look on lovely flowers, 
From which the freshness might be fled, 

But which, though withered, yet would shed 
Their fragrance, sweet as when their hue 
Was heightened by the night’s soft dew. — 

0 let me deem that thus thy heart 
Will look on me, and I can part 
With one less pang from all these bright 
And happy dreams which take their flight ; 
Till, on the far-off Spirit shore 
We meet again to part no more.” — 

0 love ! how hallowed, noble, pure, 

The feelings which thou dost secure 
Unto the breast where thou dost deign 
To institute thy perfect reign ! 

When touched by thee, how all the dross 
Of earthly passions, which so toss 
And heave their billows o’er the soul, 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


53 


Before it hath felt thy control, 

By thy stern alchemy expelled, 

Yield up the places they have held, 

And all that finds acceptance there 
Is hallowed as the breath of prayer ! 

And Me-me, though despair’s cold breath 
Had sent the icy chill of death 
Over her bosom’s tender chords, 

Yet, even then, her love found words 
She fondly hoped might interpose 
A power to soothe her lover’s woes. 

But vain ; — the love that thus could make 
Such sacrifices for his sake, 

Had kindled in his heart the same 
Self-sacrificing generous flame ; 

And when his quick sense caught this new 
And last fond proof of love so true, 

And saw and felt himself how much 
The purpose cost which made it such ; 

And gazed upon her standing there 
So droopingly, and yet so fair : — 

It was too much, — he could not brook 
That loving, yet heart-stricken look. 

He wildly caught her up and pressed 


54 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


The blighted lily to his breast ; 

And for a moment yielded all 

His heart and soul to love’s fond thrall ; 

Resolved to brave scorn, torture, death, 

To keep that gentle heart from scath. — 
Fond dreamer, up ! away ! away ! 

Death and dishonor if you stay, — 

But death and honor if you go ; — 

Away ! To meet your country’s foe ! 

A moment and he felt it true ; 

No word broke forth to say adieu. 

But one long burning kiss he gave 
Upon that brow he could not save; 

Then turned and wildly rushed again, 

With wildered sense and maddened brain, 
To where his light bark floating lay, 

And o’er the waters shot his way. 

X. 

’Tis noon again, — the sun’s warm beam (21) 
Is glancing brightly o’er the stream 
Which with a current calm and slow 
Bears on its breast the stealthy foe 
Within their light barks noiselessly ; 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


55 


Who now have paused a moment by 
Its entrance to the crystal bay, 

Opposed to where the islands lay. 

A few brief words to nerve their breast 
The Wendigo to each addressed; 

With promises of bravery’s meed 
Should they in that day’s strife succeed, 

And meed to warrior’s heart more sweet, (22) 
Which in the Spirit land would greet 
Their souls, should death their path beset, 
And when it came, be bravely met. — 

These said, — his bark whose prow displayed 
A feathery pennon’s varying shade, 

Shot from among the rest, and led 
The way around a woodland head, 

Which had the bay and isles concealed ; 

And now before them lay revealed 
The scenes whose vision fired their will 
To win them back by force or skill ; 

And where so soon they must decide 
If once again they shall abide 
Within their quiet spell, or whether 
They and this last hope die together. — 

As the last bark in that array 


56 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST. 


Came out upon the open bay, 

And caught the view, a moment’s pause 
Ran through the whole, while each one draws 
A deeper breath, and drops a prayer 
For the Great Spirit’s guardian care ; 

Then with a shout of curses dread 
To fall upon the foeman’s head, 

By their strong arms, each light bark there 
Sped onwards like a thing of air ; 

And should no foeman check their speed, 
Short were the moments that they need 
Ere they shall rest their glancing oar 
Upon the nearest island’s shore, 

Where o’er the green and shady strand 
The lodges of Ojibue stand, 

Beneath whose bark-made folds repose, 
Unconscious of approaching foes, 

The chiefs and warriors, — but with spear 
And bow and war-club lying near ; 

Ready upon the first alarm 
To be resumed with sturdy arm. 

The foremost of the barks hath now 
Almost upon the shore its prow, 

When sudden from the Ojibues rang 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


57 


The war-cry’s blast, and with it sprang 
Each warrior there upon his feet, 

With answering shout, and rushed to meet 
In strife too wild and dark for name, 

The foe that thus upon them came. 

Then grappled each his nearest foe, 

Nor yielded either, till the blow 
Which drank life’s latest current well, 

Left him all lifeless where he fell. 

But vain the strife, — though for each Sioux 
There perished of his foemen two ; 

There lived but two of that brave band 
Against the opposing host to stand ; 
Men-gis-si and the Wendigo, 

Around whom fell at every blow 
Victims, to their resistless strength, 

Had fought their bloody way at length 
Upon the beach, and there they stood 
Alone, unconquered, unsubdued ; 

Keeping, like lions fierce, at bay, 
Surrounding foemen’s whole array ; 

Or, those who were upon them rushing, 

In ghastly heaps around them crushing. 

Maddened to see the slaughtering tide, 

8 


58 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


And feel their power thus defied ; 

Shame to their courage adding wing, 

The Ojibues upon them spring 
Like famished wolves upon the prey 
That chance hath thrown within their way, 
And sire and son are borne beneath ; 

Their flesh an hundred weapons sheath. 

And when the rushing crowd gave place, 
Within Me-gis-si’s breast all trace 
Of life, with all its pains, had fled ; 

Mangled he lay among the dead. 

But from beneath their raining blows 
The Wendigo again arose 
And dashing off as things of naught 
Those who to stop his progress sought, 

One thrilling yell of scorn he gave, 

Then plunged beneath the blood-dyed wave. — 
They saw no more ; and whether then 
His spirit passed, or if again, 

Concealed by magic from their view, 

He, living rose, none ever knew. 

Still they believe amid the dirge 
Of winter’s wind and water’s surge, 

Or in the tempest’s blasting hour, 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


59 


They hear his voice and feel his power; — 
And even upon summer’s night, 

When winds are hushed and stars are bright, 
They sometimes see his shadow pass 
Slowly along the moonlit grass ; 

And then with premonition tell 
Of some mischance, they know full well 
To fall on whom the spirit’s eye 
Glanced angrily as it passed by. 

XI. 

The eve that gathered o’er the water 
Yet crimson with the recent slaughter, 

Came slowly, beautifully on ; 

And when the last faint hues were gone, 
Shadowed in the embrace of night, 

The moon and stars looked down as bright 
As though no scenes of carnage lay 
Where now their beams so sweetly play. — 
Chance led at twilight’s peaceful hour 
A band of maidens to the bower 
Where Me-me and her lover parted, 

The night before, so broken-hearted ; 

And there, upon a mossy bed, 


60 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST. 


Lay Me-me, silent, cold and dead. 

With the last look on lover cast, 

Her gentle spirit sweetly passed ; 

And now she lay in cold death sleeping, 

Their watch the wild flowers o’er her keeping; 
And as they waved with the soft sigh 
Of the night zephyrs passing by, 

Wept dewy tears o’er one so fair, 

Lying like blighted rose-bud there ; 

And poured the fragrance of their breath 
To hallow such a tristful death. 

When first beheld, the maidens deemed, 

’Mid flowers and moonbeams light she dreamed ; 
But when they gathered near and felt, 

As by her side they fondly knelt, 

That death’s rude fingers had impressed 
Their icy touch upon her breast ; 

Stilling each throb of bliss or pain 
Beyond the power to beat again ; 

A wailing low, like sighing tone 

Of winds when through the trees they moan, 

While all around beside was hushed, 

From their full bosoms sadly gushed. 

“ Heart of our hearts, farewell, farewell !” 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


61 


Thus rose the dirge’s plaintive swell, 

“ Thou wast the sunbeam, spirit given, 

But softened like the light of even, 

Within our darkened bosoms stealing, 

That kissed the buds of happy feeling, 

And in the fragrant breath and hue 
Of sweetest love, to flowers drew. 

0 what shall keep that hue so fair ! 

O what shall keep their fragrance there ! 

Their warmth and light with thee withdrawn, 
Their hue is fled, their fragrance gone ; 

We wither where our sister fell ; 

Heart of our hearts, farewell, farewell!” 

Ere the sad tones had left the ear, 

An airy spirit, hovering near, 

Caught up again the lingering strains, 

And in such music as enchains 

The raptured heart in childhood dreams, 

When in some fairy land it deems 
Mid bright ethereal forms it dwells, 

The requiem around them swells. 

“ There’s a bower prepared in the land of the blest, 
Where the young and the pure and the lovely shall 
rest, 


62 the ojibue conquest . 

Who have left the sad earth where the tempests that 
rushed 

O’er their sensitive bosoms forever are hushed. 

“ O the heart of the dead beat too brightly for earth ! 
Like a bird in the far sunny South that had birth, 
But which wandered when winds from the Northern 
sky passed, 

Where it sang one sweet strain and then sank in the 
blast. 

“ So the soul that once dwelt in that fair form of clay, 
Over which you now weep that it thus passed away, 
Like that bird hovered near you, then went to its rest, 
In the sweet Spirit home, in the land of the West. 

“ Weep not that her spirit thus early hath fled ; 

That spirit still lives though the body be dead ; 

It lives where its joys pass no more with a sigh ; 

It lives where its happiness never shall die.” 


Note 1. 

There must ever be a peculiar interest attached to the Saint 
Louis River, arising from the consideration that it is the proper 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


63 


source of that mighty chain of waters which, after pouring 
their tide through more than half the extent of the Western 
Hemisphere, at last discharge themselves into the Gulf of Saint 
Lawrence, where they mingle with and are lost in those of the 
Atlantic. But if it had not this circumstance to draw an in- 
terest around it, the character of the river itself is such as to 
leave an impression upon the mind of one who has floated upon 
its pure waters not easily to be effaced. The variety and beauty 
of the scenery which meets the eye of the voyager as he enters 
it at the extreme western point of Lake Superior, and follows 
it up through its various windings — now widening its surface 
until it may almost be called a lake, and but a little farther 
dashing with inconceivable fury through some narrow and 
rocky pass, or over falls from whose height the beholder be- 
comes dizzy in looking down, make the voyage one of continued 
excitement and delight. 

Note 2. — “From the dawn,” etc. 

The power of the Northern Indians to endure this kind of 
fatigue has been the admiration and remark of all who have 
travelled among them. I was myself witness to many ex- 
hibitions of this capacity which would appear incredible to one 
unacquainted with their habits. During my winter voyaging 
in their country, my route lay mostly over the ice either of the 
lakes which abound there to a great extent or along the streams 
which connect them. Our usual time of starting in the morn- 
ing was at day-dawn, frequently before, and from that time 
until sunset my guides would run before the horse which drew 


64 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


my cariole, a distance of some forty miles, with scarce an in- 
termission, and at night, before our blazing camp-fire, present 
a perfect personification of cheerfulness. 

Note 3. — “ Each warrior there was decked,” etc. 

There is no time in which an Indian brave adorns his per- 
son with so much care as when going to war. He then lays 
aside the encumbering articles of dress worn at other times, 
and only wears those light and often extremely graceful orna- 
ments which, without confining in the least the free and easy 
motion of every limb, exhibit their fine forms to the best ad- 
vantage. 

Note 4. — “From feathers,” etc. 

This is a kind of flag made use of by the Indians, except 
in some cases where they have received the American or British 
colors. There is a beauty and wildness about its appearance 
which correspond well with the nature of the people who make 
use of it. 

Note 5 “ Amid the sound,” etc. 

The drum is the only instrument of music (if I except a 
kind of rattle-box made use of in their incantations) which I 
found in use among them. This is used on all occasions, and, 
though very unmusical to an ear accustomed to the music of the 
civilized world, is held in great estimation by the Indians. It 
is made by tightly stretching a piece of untanned deer’s hide 
over a hoop, and somewhat resembles our tambourine. 


THE OJIBTJE CONQUEST 


65 


Note 6. — “ The feats of bravery, ’ ’ etc. 

The public dances are the only occasions in which it is 
allowed to an Indian brave, according to their ideas of pro- 
priety, to boast of his exploits in battle. But at these times 
they make ample amends for the restraint imposed upon them. 
On such occasions I have listened to their bold and graphic de- 
scriptions until my own breast would irresistibly catch the pas- 
sionate feelings of theirs. 

Note 7. — ‘‘Could tear those shackles,” etc. 

I would not like to hazard the assertion, in this enlightened 
age, that there is such a thing as magic or supernatural agency 
among the Indians ; but I confess myself unable, as all have 
done who have witnessed these exhibitions, to account for them 
satisfactorily. One of those Indians who pretends to an inter- 
course with Spirits will allow himself to be bound hand and 
foot ; then wrapped in a blanket or deer’s hide, bound round 
his whole body with cords and thongs as long and tightly as 
the incredulity of anyone present may see fit to continue the 
operation ; after which he is thrown into a small lodge, just 
large enough to receive him, and prepared for the occasion. 
Upon being put into this lodge, he begins a low, unintelligible 
incantation, which increases in rapidity and loudness until, in 
three or four minutes, he seems to have wrought himself into a 
frenzy ; at the end of which time he opens the lodge and throws 
out the thongs and hides with which he was bound, without a 
single knot untied or fold displaced — himself sitting calm and 
free on the ground. Carver, in his travels, gives a curious and 

9 


66 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


interesting account of an exhibition of this nature. Those who 
profess this art pretend that a Spirit comes and relieves them 
from their bonds. 

Note 8. — “The Wendigo of Icy Heart,” etc. 

By the term Wendigo, an Indian understands a giant or 
large supernatural being, who roams about the earth for victims 
to his ferocity. They believe that men have the power, by cer- 
tain mysterious processes and ceremonies, to transform them- 
selves into these beings. They are represented as tall as the 
clouds, and using a pine tree for a war-club, being, according 
to belief, filled with ice where the vital parts of man are found ; 
and it is thought that they can only be killed with an ice-cutter 
(a long, iron-pointed instrument), and some of the Indians pre- 
tend to have killed them in this way. They are considered 
natural enemies of the human race, and, consequently, lawful 
to be killed by anyone who can accomplish the feat. I knew 
the case of an Indian woman who took this method to revenge 
herself for the death of a relative. An Indian having killed 
one of her kinsmen under the pretense that he was about to 
transform himself into a Wendigo, she took a gun and shot 
him. 

I cannot but think that there is a fine moral concealed under 
the idea of the icy heart, expressive of that want of sympathy 
and feeling which attends certain pursuits and characters. I 
found among them some very beautiful instances of this use of 
the allegory. 


THE OJIBXJE CONQUEST. 


67 


Note 9. — “Are you brave,” etc. 

This is an expression made use of by the Indians when they 
wish to engage another in any enterprise that requires the ex- 
ercise of this attribute of the mind. It is used as a challenge 
when one Indian has offended another. The offended party 
goes to the lodge of his adversary and inquires, “Are you 
brave?” If he answers in the affirmative, an appeal is imme- 
diately made to their relative prowess. If he does not so an- 
swer, he is branded as an old woman. An instance occurred at 
Lac Sangsue the winter I spent in their country. As not un- 
frequently happens, they were famishing for want of anything 
on which to subsist, and one of them one day went to the 
lodge of another and put the laconic question: “Are you 
brave?” The one addressed being one of the bravest of the 
tribe, but not knowing the object of the other, replied that he 
had been in many situations of peril, and his bravery had never 
been doubted. The visitor repeated the question, and, being 
answered as before, he repeated it the third time, when the 
other, beginning to lose his patience, replied: “lam.” He 
then made known the object of his visit, which was to kill one 
of their children for food, to be decided by lot. To this the 
other gave a decided refusal, and the first finally entered into 
an agreement to kill his nephew, a lad of some fourteen years 
of age. By a strange chance the boy had overheard the con- 
versation, and, having prepared himself with a gun, when his 
uncle came from the lodge he shot him dead. The mother of 
the man and grandmother of the boy, upon learning what had 


68 


the ojiBUE conquest. 


happened, took an axe and killed the boy, agreeable to their 
rules of punishment or revenge, which imposes upon the nearest 
relative of the injured party the task of retribution. 

Note 10. — “ Apuckways from soft rushes wove,” etc. 

The apuckway is a kind of mat woven with skill from a 
large rush, which grows in great quantities on the marshy 
shores of many of the Northern lakes. These mats are some- 
times used as outside coverings for their lodges, but usually are 
spread thickly upon the ground inside, furnishing a neat and 
soft material on which to lounge during the day and repose at 
night. 

Note 11. — “Stood like an oak the Thunderbird 
Had riven at the Spirit’s word,” etc. 

The Indians believe that thunder is caused by a very large 
bird, which lives so far up in the sky as not to be visible. The 
noise is caused by the motion of its wings. This idea, no 
doubt, they received from the pheasant, the drumming of 
which so nearly resembles distant thunder. The lightning, 
they imagine, is the effect of the opening and shutting of the 
bird’s eyes, and its glances are sometimes so powerful as to set 
objects on fire. This happens when lightning strikes a body, 
accompanied by ignition. Whenever the lightning strikes an 
object, they think that the bird discharges from its eye a small 
round stone, which causes the effect ; and they say that if you 
will examine where the lightning enters the ground, this stone 
may always be discovered. 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


69 


Note 12. — “ Where wander Shadows of the dead 
By the dim light auroras shed,” etc. 

The Indians, unable to account for the various phenomena 
of nature, with most of them have some curious superstition in- 
terwoven. The Aurora Borealis, they believe, is made to illu- 
minate the pastimes of the disembodied spirits. When in the 
shadowy land, they gather in the chase, or mingle in the dances 
with which they amuse themselves in this. 

Note 13. — “ Our totem on our little boy,” etc. 

Each family is distinguished by some peculiar badge or 
emblem, such as the bear, the swan, the snake, the eagle, etc. 
To these are given the name of totem. The laws relating to them 
are somewhat curious. It is not permitted a male and female 
whose totem happens to be the same to intermarry. They are 
considered as brother and sister. And in adopting or inherit- 
ing their totem, among their children, the boys assume that of 
the father and the girls that of the mother. 

Note 14 . — “Sweet as the swan’s expiring notes,” etc. 

I am aware that in this line I am using a very old comparison, 
yet I could not but think it appropriate, as the country where 
the scene is laid abounds, perhaps to a greater extent than any 
other part of the world, in this most graceful of birds which 
swim the water. About Lac Sangsue and some other of the 
Northern lakes they are so numerous that in the portion of the 
year when they are taken the most easily they furnish the 
almost exclusive food of the natives. 


70 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


Note 15. — “Thou shadowy spirit ! for whose sake,” etc. 

Like every unenlightened people, the Indians are extremely 
superstitious. Among their superstitions is a belief in the visits 
of the spirits of the dead ; not often so as to be visible in a 
naturally embodied form, but heard in various sounds, as the 
sighing of the winds, the stirring of the forest leaves, or fancied 
in the fleecy clouds of an evening sky. 

Note 16. — “Till, shadows both, again we meet,” etc. 

Considering the mental and moral darkness that prevails 
among them, I found occasionally surprisingly clear ideas of the 
immateriality of the soul. This they represent in the idea of a 
shadow. The explanation which one of them gave of the reason 
why they buried the hunting-implements, goods, etc., with the 
bodies of their dead is so ingenious that I cannot help relating it. 
He was asked why they did this, as the dead could not make 
use of them, which was proved by the fact that on opening the 
grave at any time afterwards all these things were found just 
as they had been placed at first. He answered that, as it was 
only the shadow { Spirit) of the man which went to the Great 
West, his body or substance remaining in the grave, so it is the 
shadow of these substances deposited with him which accom- 
pany him, and of which he makes use on his journey, being of 
the same service to the shadow of the man there that the sub- 
stance was to the living body while here. 

I had long known the existence of this custom at their burials, 
and had regarded it as a kind of unmeaning ceremony ; but this 
explanation surprised me with its ingenuity and its beauty. 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


71 


Note 17. — “Many a lodge, whose bark so white,” etc. 

Their lodges or wigwams are made by planting poles in a 
circular form in the ground and covering them with the bark 
of the white birch. This bark is so white that, where a num- 
ber of these lodges are standing together on a green and level 
bank of some lake or river, which is the kind of spot usually 
selected, they present a very neat and not uninteresting ap- 
pearance. The bark of the birch is used for almost every com- 
mon purpose of life. Their houses, canoes, drinking-vessels, 
eating-vessels, etc., are made of this material. In the Spring 
this bark makes the dish which receives the sap from the maple, 
and the mukuk which holds the sugar. In fact it supplies the 
place of all those tin, iron, wooden, brass and clay utensils 
which make up the furnish of a white man’s dwelling. 

Note 18. — “It is the wailing for the dead,” etc. 

The evening is the time always selected for this. I was wit- 
ness to one of these scenes, and cannot better describe it than by 
giving a part of a letter to a friend on the night it occurred. 

“I was sitting at my table to-night, quietly absorbed in a 
French tract, when the young Frenchman entered and told me 
to come out and listen. I went out with him and heard, — but 
before telling what I heard, let me describe, if I can, the night 
and the appearance. On one side of the fort lies Sandy Lake, 
whose surface is broken by many a beautiful island ; on the 
other side stretches a dense wilderness, whose quiet is almost 
unbroken for many miles, and over all is now laid an immense 
body of snow. The night is one of those peculiar to a North- 


72 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


ern climate. The moon, which is about at its second quarter, 
cannot be seen, although the sky is not cloudy. A light mist 
that hangs in the air diffuses its light equally over the whole 
sky, throwing a kind of supernatural light over all objects. It 
is so light as to render the islands and the scenery around 
visible, yet with that indistinct kind of visibility which gives 
full scope to the imagination. As the source of the light can- 
not be seen, all portions of the sky being equally bright, it 
seems as though the air itself was a soft luminous medium, and 
in contemplating it, a kind of awe irresistibly takes possession 
of the mind. It was thus with me, as I opened the door and 
stepped out, and the sounds which met my ear were not calcu- 
lated to diminish this feeling. A wailing, the most melancholy 
that the mind can imagine, broke upon the stillness of the 
scene, like the requiem of spirits from another world. I am 
naturally superstitious, and before I had time to collect my 
thoughts a thousand indescribable emotions had passed over me. 
And even when, after a few moments, I had learned the cause, 
these feelings did not altogether leave me. It was the Indian 
wail for the dead. A young Indian woman had chosen the 
occasion to exhibit the customary signs of grief for some rela- 
tive deceased ; and surely she could not have selected a time 
more suitable to the wailing tribute paid to the departed. Such 
wailings, I am told, are common, but I can only hope that they 
will hereafter choose a time less calculated to work upon a sensi- 
tive imagination.” 

The Sioux accompany their wailing with inflictions upon their 


THE OJIBUE CONQUEST. 


73 


bodies. I have seen their women cut themselves in a frightful 
manner, at the death of a child. 

Note 19. — “ Me-me,- fair child of light and love,” etc. 

Me-me in Ojibue signifies a dove. 

Note 20. — “In the soft language of her tribe,” etc. 

The Ojibue is one of the most musical and at the same time 
noble languages I have ever heard. It is susceptible of express- 
ing the nicest shades of difference in thought by endless modifi- 
cations of the verb. It abounds with vowels and words of great 
length, and is consequently admirably adapted to oratory, — 
fine specimens of which I have often heard at their councils. 
Their language may justly be styled the Greek of America. 

Note 21. — “ ’Tis noon again, the sun’s warm beam 

Is glancing brightly o’er the stream,” etc. 

La Rivier Mauvaise , which comes into the southwestern ex- 
tremity of the bay. 

Note 22. — “And meed to warrior’s heart more sweet 

Which in the Spirit land should greet,” etc. 

Bravery is the key that unlocks the entrance to the most 
exalted joys of the Great West. The peaceful virtues of 
humility, forgiveness and benevolence are powerless to open 
the gates of an Indian paradise. 


10 






































it 


83 YEARS” 

















Waifs of Idle Hours. 

THE INDIAN’S REVENGE. 


Beneath a grove that shadows o’er 
Fair Lac-du-Sable’s quiet shore 
There was a voice of wailing low, 

And many hurrying to and fro, 

To look and weep o’er one who fell 
By foeman’s blow aimed but too well 
To drain the last of life’s red tide,- — 
Telling who gave the blow, he died. 

The name fell on the father’s ear ; 

He waited not for more to hear, — 

With quiver o’er his shoulder cast, 

And bow within his right hand clasped, 
While look and eye and feature showed 
The purpose in his heart that glowed ; 

And with no thought or look turned back, 
He pressed upon the murderer’s track. — 
The murderer flew with the speed of wind, 


76 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


For he knew the avenger press’d behind ; 

And he fancied he almost heard the sound 
Of his feet as they swiftly touched the ground ; 

And he strained each nerve to its utmost strength 
To leave behind as he hoped, at length, 

The hand of the sire which he felt no prayer 
Would stay from his life should he meet him there. 
Leagues were pass’d, yet away ! away ! 

By wood, nor mountain, nor river they stay ; — 

By fear and vengeance their speed impelled ; 

O’er all that opposed, their way they held. — 

They fled and pursued till the sun was set, 

Nor stopped they then, but onward yet, 

With speed unchecked, till the last faint light 
Of day had pass’d in the darkness of night. 

Then, while he could not see to fly, 

As night’s dark hours pass’d slowly by, 

The murderer lay in a covert thick, 

With ear upon the ground which quick 
Would catch full well the faintest sound 
Of footsteps, should they fall around ; 

As still as though he lay in death, 

He hardly drew his smothered breath, 

But watched with every pulse awake, 

Until the dawn of day should break. — 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


77 


Midnight pass’d, and there met his ear 
The sound of footsteps stealing near, 

And he plainly heard the dead leaves crack, 

As they broke beneath the coming track. 

He sprang to rush from his lurking-place, 

But stopp’d as he heard the rapid pace 
Of a wild beast scared by the noise he made, 

And down again in his covert laid. 

The pursuer on his track lay down, 

And soundly slept, when the night came on, 

For he knew, full well, that he should need 
His utmost strength and his utmost speed, 

To bear him on with the force that bore 
The steps of him who was fleeing before. 

The morning came, and away ! away ! 

They fled with the first faint dawn of day ; 

The murderer like a hunted stag, 

Who knew it death but a step to lag. 

Like a hound when on the wild deer’s scent, 
Never at fault, the avenger went. 

All day long, with no pause for rest, 

On their tiresome way, like the wind they press’d. 
Night fell again, and again they cast 
Them on the ground till its hours were pass’d, 
And the first approach of dawning light 


78 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


Should start them up to renew their flight. 

The pursuer reposed calmly and still, 

Upon the bank of a gentle rill, 

Whose music fell on his weary breast 
With a charm that brought a grateful rest, 

And with the dawn of morning came 
Fresh vigor to his exhausted frame. 

The murderer watched, as the night before, 

Or if weariness for a moment o’er 

His trembling limbs brought a brief repose, 

His weary eyelids would hardly close 
Before some visions of fear would scare 
His tortured mind, and with standing hair 
And quickened breath, would start to fly, 

And when the shock of the dream pass’d by, 
Again lie silent and watchful down, 

Till the weary hours of the night were gone. — 
The third day dawned and they may not stay ; 
But up again, — and away ! away ! 

Through forest wild and swampy bed 
Of rushes and ferns, away they sped ; 

Nor stopped when the rushing streams they met, 
But through its waters fled onward yet, 

And bounded up o’er the rocky bank, 

With the dashing spray of its waters dank ; 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


79 


Scaling the crags with no thought of dread, 

Where the wild goat would hardly dare to tread. — 
The noonday sun poured its burning rays 
Along their path with its withering blaze 
Of light and heat, and scarce was there 
A breath sufficient of passing air 
To stir the leaves of the boughs that bent 
Over their heads as they onward went. — 

The fugitive felt his strength recede, 

And weariness check his flagging speed, 

And he laid him down on the mossy brink 
Of a cool and bubbling brook to drink ; 

And paused, e’er resuming his flight, to lave 
His burning brow in the sparkling wave ; 

For its veins were bursting with press of heat, 

And its pulses quickly and fiercely beat ; 

And his wild eye glowed with a restless look, 

And his quivering frame with exhaustion shook. 
He heard a sound on his track behind ; — 

Was it the dead leaves stirred by the wind ? — 

He turned to look and his vision fell 
On his avenger, who but too well, 

Through river and wood and tangled glen, 

Had followed unerring his track till then. — 

An arrow whizzed rapidly through the air, 


80 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


And tangled within his matted hair. 

He waited not till another sped, 

But gathered his strength and onward fled, 

With one more struggle, deep desperate, 

To elude the hand and baffle the hate 
Of the eye that his track so well could mark, 
And the heart that beat with intent so dark. — 
’Twas a fearful struggle, but ’twas in vain, 

That eye was on him and would remain 
Till blood for blood, as the debt he owed, 

For the deed he fled, had freely flowed. — 

For hours yet on their course they toiled ; 

And the fugitive still the avenger foiled ; 

But he felt his strength each moment flag. 

And his limbs with increasing weariness drag ; 
Yet onward he urged his way, until 
He gained the brow of a craggy hill, 

On one side of which was a rocky steep, 

Where yawned a precipice dark and deep. 

He gained the point of the utmost ledge, 

And pausing a moment upon the edge, 

He cast one glance of defiance back 
At him who was straining on his track, 

Then through the air, like the shaft from a bow, 
Sped and mangled lay on the rocks below. 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


81 


THE CROWNING CURSE. 


In ancient days, when earth was young and man 
With simple tastes and nature’s gifts content; 

As when, in Paradise the race began, 

His days in peaceful toil and virtue spent. 

When balmy sleep waited on labor’s close, 

As fell the cooling shadows of the night ; 

And mind and body sank in sweet repose, 

With rest unbroken till the morning light. 

Though then life had its complement of cares, 

And pain, disease and death, the common lot ; 
And the unwary feet enough of snares; 

And Eden’s glory lost, but not forgot. 

Yet, of that Eden there to all remained 
Some fragments still, their cares and toils to bless ; 
Some of its pristine sweets they still retained, 

And in their culture still found happiness. 

11 


82 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


Satan beheld, and his immortal hate 

Was fiercely stirred, that still his eye must meet 

Aught that his hatred could not satiate ; — 

The world’s deep misery still incomplete. 

What have I left undone that could be done 
To bring upon the world a blight and curse; 

Of all my train of ills, is there yet one 
Untried, to make its heritage yet worse ? 

Have I not brought it strife and greed and pride ; 
Yea, more, the hate that sheds a brother’s blood ; — 

Sorrow and tears and death ! w T hat more beside 
Could I bestow, to swell the direful flood? 

I cannot curse the ground ; seed-time and rain 
Will come in spite of all my powers to check ; — 

And harvests fill their storehouses with grain, 

And fragrant flowers the landscape still bedeck. 

These sons of earth, what nature thus bestows 
Receive, and in fruition find welcome respite 

From what my vengeance hath produced of woes ; — 
Defeating both my purpose and my might. 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


83 


The fruits that thus far yield them naught but good 
Shall be transformed to ministers of woe; 

And make of that which now is healthful food, 
Man’s ever deepest, darkest, deadliest foe. 

The pure, refreshing spring shall they forsake, 

And in its stead shall drink the “ liquid fire ” 

Which I shall henceforth teach them how to make ; — 
The last and crowning curse of my desire. 

The wife’s and mother’s tears, — the children’s cry, 
With cruelty and hunger gaunt, for bread ; — 

Dead hopes, dead joys, — dead all but misery ; — 
Body and soul to all that’s noble, dead ! 

These, and disgrace and poverty and crime, 

The drunkard’s lot and heritage abide 

Henceforth, in every age and every clime, — 

And my Satanic will is satisfied ! 


84 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION OF 
MY ALMA MATER-A. D. 1894. 


Hail Union ! Our loved Alma Mater hail ! 

Although a century hath pass’d o’er thee, 

Thy pristine strength and glory do not fail ; 

They still are thine, in an intens’d degree. 

Thy walls and groves are to thy sons as dear 
As Academia’s shade, in olden days, 

To Hella’s favored youth, — as gathered here 
Again upon these old-time scenes we gaze. 

The yearnings, and the heart’s wild beat for fame 
That nerved us for our daily tasks, — with zest 
Come back ; almost to light again the flame 
That animated then our youthful breast. 

And that immortal, new-world Nestor, — Nott ! 

Sage, friend and mentor, — all combined in one ; — 
By Union’s sons can never be forgot; — 

His honored name shall stand long as the sun 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


85 


Shall shine on Union’s towers, loved and revered ; — 
A synonym of all that’s good and great; 

By sympathetic words and deeds endeared 
To every heart that came beneath its weight. 

And other names upon our memory press ; 

Names Time’s erasive touch cannot efface, 

Of noble and devoted men, who scarce the less 
Have borne their part in hallowing the place. 

The pure and godly Potter, — Vir Praeses ! — 

The genial Jackson, scholarly Yates as well ; — 

The guileless, tender-hearted Proudfit ; — these 
Are names on which we still delight to dwell. 

Thou dear old Union ; — whereso’er their lot, 

And whatso’er that lot for good or ill ; 

Thou never can be, by thy sons, forgot; — 

Thy memories will cling around them still. 


86 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


HOPE 


Athwart the hope of worldly getting 
There comes another, — born of God ; 

A hope into the dark heart letting 
A light to cheer life’s darkest road. 

The brightest hopes earth can present us 
But fail to make their promise good ; — 

Their nature false cannot content us ; — 

We should not let them if they could. 

The world’s best gifts ; how evanescent, 
Though keeping till life’s latest day ; 

For life is but a fleeting present ; 

One moment here, — then pass’d awa}\ 

It is the life that then is entered, 

The real life that endeth never ; 

Where, if our heart’s best hopes are centered, 
They shall be realized forever. 


WAIFS OF IDLE IIOUBS. 


87 


No eye hath seen nor on ear broken 
The joys that wait fulfilment there; — 

No words by mortal lips e’er spoken, 

The full fruition can declare. 

Then why, 0 blind heart and demented, 

On mortal things to rest,— so prone ! 

Why, with earth’s cheating hopes contented, 
When they should rest on Heaven’s alone? 


88 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


“ FOR THERE SHALL BE NO NIGHT 
THERE !” 

Rev. xxi., 25. 


No night there ! 

No wearied limbs o’erborne with toil and care ; 

No burdened heart with pain and sorrow press’d ; 
No aching eyes bedimm’d with weeping there, 

To need the darkness of the night for rest ; 

No night there ! 

No night there ! 

Nothing that seeks seclusion from the light ; 

No base, unholy thought or word or deed ; 

No lurking vice, no vile unseemly sight, 

A shield of darkness and of night to need ; — 

No night there ! 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


89 


No night there ! 

Here, 0 how welcome often is the night ! 

How grateful is the couch on which to rest ! 

Glad of the brief oblivion, though slight, 

Which sleep and darkness bring the troubled 
breast. 

How welcome night ! 


No night there ! 

But light intense, effulgent and eternal 
Fills all that radiant home of love and bliss ; 
Where dwells the Infinite in light supernal, 

With those, — the trophies of his love in this, — 
No night there ! 


No night there ! 

There can be none, — the Lamb is ever there, 

“ The Light thereof.” — “ The bright and morning 
star !” — 

A light how glorious, — how wondrous fair 

Of love and joy which naught can come to 

No night there ! 

12 


mar ; — 


90 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


No night there ! 

From all our nights of weeping ; from all our days 
of grief; 

In that bright world forever, a long and sweet re- 
lief ! — 

Though meeting us so often, while toiling, hoping 
here, 

They have no place forever, within that blissful 
sphere ; — 

No night there ! 

No night there ! 

Then 0, my soul be waiting, that land of light to 
see; 

And let the prospect cheer thee, though now thou 
burdened be ; 

Thy night of darkness here, full soon shall pass 
away 

Into the glorious morning of that eternal day. — 

No night there ! 


WAIFS OF IDLE HO UBS. 


91 


“PafiSowi iv a avaffhe^o” 
Mark x., 51. 


0, darkened mind ! 

For long years hast thou been so blind ! 

With Heavenly light 
Flooding thy pathway, has thy sight 
Been closed to its effulgent glory ; 

And all these long years has the story, — 
The story old but ever new, 

Of Him who by Tiberius’ sea 
The multitude around him drew, 

Been as a mythic dream to thee. — 

The words that fell 
Like manna from His lips, and tell 
To mortal ears 
What all the years 
Had never heard or dreamed before ; 

How earth’s sad tears 


92 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


From hopeless eyes, might evermore 

Be turned to pearls of beauty, 
Welling up from hearts o’erflowing; 

With more than earthly rapture glowing. — 

Remorse from long neglected duty 
Exchanged for joy of sin forgiven, 

And foretaste of the bliss of Heaven. 

How the dark shadows which control 
All the approaches of the soul 
In darkness held, 

May be dispelled ; 

And light whose beams shall never cease 
Bring thee eternal rest and peace. — 

0, my dull, foolish soul ; hast thou 
Till now 

Through all the past years closed thy eyes 
Against the entrance of this light ! 

Art thou not ready to be wise, 

And cry, “ Lord that I may receive my sight /” 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


93 


THE CRUCIFIXION. 

When astonished at mid-day, the sun hid its light ; — 
When opened were graves, and the dead rose to 
sight;— 

When the veil of the Temple was severed in twain, 
And the solid rocks rent on Jerusalem’s plain ; 

Then a fountain, 0, Sinner ! was opened for thee, 
Whose life-giving waters forever flow free ; 

And whose touch has a virtue to instantly heal 
The deadliest wounds that the heart can reveal. 

Is the leprosy deep that has poisoned thy soul ? 

This fountain’s clear stream will at once make it 
whole ; 

For, of all the vast throng who its waters have tried, 
Not one disappointed has gone from its tide. 

Has the stain of thy soul felt that fount’s healing 
power, 

And its whole depths been filled with the joy of that 
hour? 

If not, — then 0, sinner, no longer delay, 

But come and be healed in that fountain to-day. 


94 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


WAITING. 

The Saviour at the portal 
Of thy heart is waiting, 

His peace and life immortal 
To give thee for the taking. 

Receive Him, O, receive Him 
Into thy life and heart ; 

Lest by delay thou grieve Him 
Forever to depart. 

Like Thomas, come, confess Him, 
Both by thy deed and word ; 

And, Thomas-like, address Him 
As thy God and Lord. 

Then go thy way rejoicing, 

And let thy conduct prove, — 

And day by day be voicing 
The power of His love. 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


95 


PATIENCE. 

Be patient, soul ! Beat not thy wing 
Against the bars that cage thee here ; 
But wait with cheerfulness, and sing 
The songs that will thy bondage cheer. 

Thy bars are weakening day by day ; — 
Short is thy bondage at its best ; — 
Soon thy freed wings can fly away, 

And end forever thy unrest. 


96 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


JUDAS ISCARIOT. 

Not for mines of gold 

Did Simon’s son his friend and Lord betray ; 

Not for wealth untold 
Did he barter to death his Lord away ; 

Not for tempting gems 

Of costly pearls, or diamonds “ rich and rare 
Such as in diadems 

Earth’s crowned kings and mighty monarchs wear 

But for ten, only thrice, 

Of paltry silver pieces, was He sold ; 

He whose infinite price 
Could not, e’en by Infinity, be told. 

And not alone his friend 
Did Judas sell ; — himself, his very soul, 

Went, in the end, 

In that foul bargain, to the bitter goal 


WAIFS OF IDLE HO URS. 97 

Where crime and greed 
Like his must ever culminate ; and where 
The only meed 

Is hopeless, helpless, self-condemned despair. 

And still perpetuate 
Are Judases in every age and clime ! 

His warning fate 

Is all unheeded, till the reckoning time 
Is come, as come 

It must and will, most surely, soon or late ; 

And standing dumb 

They meet, as Judas did, the traitor’s fate. 


13 


98 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


TO , IN BEREAVEMENT. 

0, sorrowing heart ! Is there no healing balm 
To soothe, and bring a sweet and peaceful calm ; 
Has neither Earth nor Heaven a sure relief, — 

In all their stores, a cure for human grief! 

Must the torn heart with its great anguish break ! 
Is there no lodge to which it can betake ; — 

No friendly hand to grasp ; — no faithful breast 
On which the weary, aching head may rest ; 

And for awhile to grief be lost, and feel 
The soothing power of sympathy to heal ; 

And lift the weights which now so sorely press 
And crush thee in thy seeming helplessness ? 

Sad heart ! There is, both human and divine, 

A power to conquer even grief like thine ; — 

The human hand laid kindly on thy head ; — 
The human tear for others’ sorrows shed ; — 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


99 


The tender, loving words in accents broken ; — 
The silent sympathy, though no word spoken ; 
These shall thy griefs and burdens lighter make, 
And let the billows o’er thee gentler break. 

But 0, how far beyond the utmost reach 
Of highest human thought or human speech 
The soothing, healing, sweetly calming power 
Divine love brings in sorrow’s darkest hour. 

“ Come unto me !” 0 burdened heart go there ; 

In that divine compassion go and share; — 

Thy tears shall all be swallowed up in joy ; 

And songs thy days, instead of grief, employ. 


100 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOUBS. 


STABAT MATER . 1 

Stabat mater dolorosa, 

Juxta crucem lacrymosa, 

Dum pendebat filius ; 

Cujus animam gementem, 

Contristantem et dolentem 
Pertransivit gladius. 

O quam tristis et afflicta 
Fuit ilia benedicta 
Mater unigeniti ; 

Quse moerebat et dolebat 
Et tremebat, dum videbat 
Nati poenas inclyti. 

Quis est homo qui non fleret, 

Matrem Christi si videret 
In tanto supplicio ? 

1 I am aware that there have been numerous translations of 
this Hymn in various languages, but this may not be a conclu- 
sive reason why others still should not be allowed. It is pos- 
sible that no one person can bring out all the power and beauty 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


101 


STABAT MATER. 

Near the cross her vigil keeping, 

Stands the virgin mother weeping, 

While her son hangs nailed thereon. 
Anguished is her heart and aching, 

With its torture near to breaking, 

As a sword through it had gone. 

O, how sad and press’d with anguish, 

See the blessed mother languish, 

Mother of the Holy One ; 

Grief and woe her soul enfolding, 

While with tearful eyes beholding 
Sufferings of her glorious son. 

Who his ready tears could smother, 

While he sees Christ’s tender mother 
In agony so deep and wild ; 

of the original. Professor Sch<$ff says that “It is one of the 
most pathetic, as the Dies Irse is the most sublime hymn of the 
Middle Ages. While it has been characterized as Maryolatry, 
it still has many touches of genuine devotion and spiritual 
power and sweetness.” 


102 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


Quis non posset contristari, 
Piam matrem contemplari, 
Dolentem cum filio ! 

Pro peccatis suse gentis 
Vidit Jesum in tormentis 
Et flagellis subditum ; 
Vidit suum dulcem natum 
Morientem desolatum 
Dum emisit spiritum. 

Eia mater, fons amoris ! 

Me sentire vim doloris 
Fac, ut tecum lugeam ; 
Fac, ut ardeat cor meum 
In amando Christum deum 
Ut sibi complaceam. 

Sancta mater, istud agas, 
Crucifixi fige plagas 
Cordi meo valide ; 

Tui nati vulnerati 
Tam dignati pro me pati, 
Poenas mecum divide. 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


103 


Who would not be tear imbued, 

Mary mother as he viewed 
Grieving o’er her holy child. 

For His people’s derelictions 
Sees Him suffer these inflictions, 

Even to the cruel spear ; 

Sees her precious offspring lying, 
Fainting, desolate and dying, 

Yielding up His life so dear. 

Mother ! Fount of pure affection, 

Let me taste thy deep dejection, 

That my tears may flow with thine ; 
Let my fervent heart be glowing 
With its love to Christ o’erflowing, 
While I share His love divine. 

Mother ! let the pangs abide 
Of my Lord the crucified, 

Firmly in my suffering heart. 

As thy stricken son so freely, 

Deigned to suffer thus for me, 

Let me share with Him the smart. 


104 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


Fac me vere tecum flere, 
Crucifixo condolere, 

Donee ego vixero ; 

Juxta crucem tecum stare 
Te libenter sociare 
In planctu desidero. 

Virgo virginum prseclara, 
Mihi, jam non sis amara 
Fac me tecum plangere ; 

Fac ut portem Christi mortem 
Passionis fac consortem 
Et plagas recolere. 

Fac me plagis vulnerari 
Cruce hac inebriari 
Et cruore filii ; 

Inflammatus et accensus 
Per te, virgo, sine defensus 
In die judicii. 

Fac me cruce custodiri 
Morte Christi pnemuniri 
Confoveri gratia. 

Quando corpus morietur 
Fac, ut animse donetur 
Paradisi gloria. 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


105 


May my tears with thine be blended, 

As I mourn for Him suspended, 

While my mortal life shall be : 

Near the cross with thee abiding, 

All thy griefs with thee dividing, 

I would bear them thus with thee. 
Virgin ; virgins all excelling ; 

In thy gracious favor dwelling, 

Let me, — let me mourn with thee : 

Let me thus the cross be bearing, 

In His awful passion sharing, 

Partner of His agony. 

With His stripes let me be bruised, 

By His cross and blood enthused, 

Of thy son the blood and cross : — 
Heart and soul with ardor glowing, 

Let me, at the judgment showing, 
Shielded be by thee from loss. 

Make Christ’s death my saving power, 
And His cross my hiding tower, 

Warmed and nourished by His grace ; 
And when death shall claim this mortal, 
May my spirit through the portal 

Find in Paradise a place. 

14 


106 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


“IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST I 
GLORY.” 

Gaudeo in crnce Christi, 

Superante mundi res ; 

Totus splendor sacris dicti, 

Suos luminat frontes. 

Mala cum m’opprimunt vitae, 

Metus vexant, fallunt spes ; 

Nunquam crux deerit mihi, 

Placans meos terrores. 

Grata bona cum effundunt 
Lucem laetam in via ; 

Fulgor cruce excorruscat, 

Augens mea gaudia. 

Dolor, laeta ; bona, mala, 
Sanctificantur cruce : 

Hie est pax interminata, 

Nitens crescente luce. 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS . 


107 


“ ROCK OF AGES.” 

A\(ovos IleTpoq, pro me fissus, 
Sim secure in Te missus ; 
Aqua cum sanguine miscens, 
Tuo latere effluens, — 

Sanet perfecte peccatum ; 
Jesu me fit consecratum. 

Non valet labor mese mantis, 
Peragere legis rogatus ; — 
Meus ardor nunquam cesset, 
Meus dolor semper constet ; 
Hi non detergeant peccatum ; 
TV solus me facis purgatum. 

Nullum pretium affero ; 
Crucem tantum amplecto ; 
Nudum, veste tege me; 

Inops, gratiam oro te ; 

Ad fontem fugio impurus ; 
Salva ; aut ero moriturus. 


108 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


Dum vires animse agentur ; 
Cum morte occuli cludentur ; 
Supra mundum cum accedam, 
Et Te judicem videbam ; — 
A\(ovoq nezpos, pro me fissus, 
Sim secure in Te missus. 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


109 


IN RESURRECTION DOMINI. 

(An Old Latin Hymn — Author Unknown.) 

Pone luctum, Magdalena! 

Et serena lacrymas ; 

Non est jam Simonis coena, 

Non cur fletum exprimas 
Causa mille sunt lsetandi, 

Causae mille exultandi, 

Halleluia ! 

Sume risum, Magdalena ! 

Frons nitescat lucida ; 

Demigravit omnis poena, 

Lux coruscat fulgida ; 

Christus mundum liberavit, 

Et, de morte triumphavit, 

Halleluia ! 

Gaude, plaude, Magdalena ! 

Tumba Christus exiit ! 

Tristis est peracta scena, 


110 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


Victor mortis rediit ; 

Quem deflebas morientem, 
Nunc arride resurgentem ; 

Halleluia ! 

Tolle vultum, Magdalena ! 

Redivivum aspice ; 

Vide, frons quam sit amoena, 
Quinque plagas inspice ; 
Fulgent sic ut margaritae 
Ornamenta novae vitae ; 

Halleluia ! 

Vive, vive, Magdalena! 

Tua lux reversa est ; 
Gaudiis turgescat vena, 
Mortis vis abstersa est ; 
Moesti procul sunt dolores, 
Laeti redeant amores : — 

Halleluia ! 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


Ill 


THE LORD’S RESURRECTION. 

Cease your grief, 0, child of weeping ! 

Wipe away your sorrowing tears ; 

Grief ’tis not a time for keeping, — 

Now no cause for gloomy fears ; — 
Thousands now to banish sadness, — 
Thousands now for joy and gladness; 

Halleluia ! 

Let the tear-stained face be glowing, 

Radiant with joy the brow ; — 

Grace and life and peace bestowing ; 

Light effulgent bathes us now. — 

Freedom to the world Christ giveth ; 
Conqueror o’er death, — He liveth ; — 

Halleluia ! 

Clap your hands, 0 ye who languish ! 

Christ the rocky tomb hath left; 

Past the scene so full of anguish ; 

Death of its power hath been bereft ; 


112 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


Him whom thou lamented’st dying, 

Greet with smiles on His arising ; — 

Halleluia ! 

Raise aloft your eyes of sadness, 

See your Lord who lives again ; 

Look ! How beams His brow with gladness ; 

And the wounds, once thrilled with pain, 
Now like orient pearls are gleaming ; 

Jewels for the new life beaming, — 

Halleluia ! 

Live, 0, live ! Thou sad and doubting ! 

For thy light has come again ; 

Let thy heart expand with shouting ; 

Death hath no more power to reign, — 
Grief and woe henceforth repressing, — 

Let love reign, the glad earth blessing, — 

Halleluia. 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


113 


MY SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY. 

Full seven decades of years are pass’d ; — 
Threescore and ten is reached at last ; 

More than twelve hundred score of days 
Of joys and sorrows, light and haze. 

I would the echo of these years, 

So full of joys, so full of tears, 

Would hush awhile, that I, to-day, 

With vision unencumbered, may, 

With mind and heart alert, look back 
Along the oft too tortuous track 
My life has made, and recognize 
As it is meet I should, the wise 

And loving hand of God in all ; — 

That hand without which doth not fall 
A sparrow even to the ground. — 

In all these years there is not found 
15 


114 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


Among life’s joys a single thrill 
But came the gift of His sweet will : 

And equally no thrill of pain 
In which His love did not sustain. 

0 God ! I would to-day anew 
Attune my heart to praises due, 

For friends who have my pathway cheered, — 
Some by most tender ties endeared ; 

Friends who have borne so patiently 
With faults they could not help but see ; 
Forgiving and forgetting even, 

In measure full seventy times seven. 

For mercies more than tongue can tell ; 

Those given, those withheld as well ; 

For now I see ’twas love denied 
The things for which I often sighed ; 

And in this confidence I rest, 

That what Thou doest still is best. — 

My soul to-day with glad refrain 
Responds to Addison’s sweet strain : — 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


115 


“ When all Thy mercies, 0, my God ! 

My rising soul surveys, 

Transported with the view, I’m lost 
In wonder, love and praise. 

“ Ten thousand thousand precious gifts 
My daily thanks employ ; 

Nor is the least a thankful heart 
That tastes those gifts with joy.” 

Thus do thou celebrate this day, 

My grateful heart ! with thy best lay ; 
And give to Him whose love ne’er dies, 
Thy most exalted sacrifice. 


116 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


SEPTUAGINTA QUINQUE. 

My soul ! with joyfulness obey 
The heavenly impulse which to-day 
Would lead thee once again to give 
New thanks to Him in whom I live. 

For five more years I give Him praise, 
To whom I owe this length of days ; 
Days that so graciously have brought 
Their every hour with blessings fraught. 

Like to a traveller whose feet, 

For long in sunshine and in heat, 

Have wearily, with halting stride, 

Toiled up some mountain’s rugged side. 

With each ascent the heaven’s blue 
Takes a distincter, deeper hue ; 

While things below, but late so bright, 
Are slowly fading from his sight. 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS . 


117 


The clouds that once obscured the sky, 
Hiding the azure from his eye, 

Are all below hin\j — the clear air 
And heaven’s sunlight only there. 

Thus as my feet the summit near, 

The sky above grows bright and clear ; 
While things once bright, now left behind, 
Have ceased their charm o’er eye and mind. 

Great God ! what tribute shall I bring 
To Thee ; what worthy offering, 

For days prolonged, for hopes so dear, 

For blessings multiplied each year ? 

A heart, unworthy though it be, 

If grateful is, I know, to Thee, 

The most acceptable ; and mine 
0 take, and make more wholly thine. 


118 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


OCTOGINTA. 

At seventy years a paean glad 
I sang to Him whose loving care, 

Through all their varied changes had, 

With wondrous patience, brought me there. 

At seventy-five renewed the theme ; 

Twining a garland of fresh praise, 

For years of which I dared not dream, 

And blessings which had crowned their days. 

And now, when fourscore years are flown, 

An added tribute Lord I bring 

For Thy great love that through them shone, — 
The memories sweet that round them cling. 

“ Labor and sorrow is their strength,” 

So sang, of old, the man of God ; 

“ Though fourscore years be reached at length, 
And all their weary pathway trod.” 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


Thanks for the grace that I can say, 

Though few or many be my lot, 

My evil days, they did not stay, 

But in their mercies are forgot. 

In faith and hope I now await, 

Though long delayed, the change to come 
That opens the celestial gate, 

And leads me to the heavenly home. 

The light that guides my footsteps there, 
And gilds the pathway to the tomb, 
Grows brighter, — more intensely fair, 

As nearer to its end I come. 


120 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


RETROSPECT. 

Mates of my childhood ; where are they, 
Whose memory is still so dear ; — 

Have they indeed all pass’d away ? — 
Alas ! they are no longer here. 

The friends of later, riper years ; — 

Have they, too, passed beyond the vale 

Where joys so oft give place to tears, 

And summer’s breeze to winter’s gale ? 

And those still closer bound by ties 
Of fellowship so full of bliss ; 

Have they all reached the land that lies 
So far, and yet so near to this ? 

When I would fain the roll-call make, 
The echo of my voice alone 

Is the response I can awake, — 

The ranks are empty, — gone, all gone ! 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


121 


No ! one, the partner who has shared 
For these long years life’s good and ill, 
In God’s good mercy still is spared, 

My cup of blessing yet to fill. 

And best of all, there is another, 

Of whom I should not fail to speak, — 
“ Who sticketh closer than a brother 
With these, why need I further seek ? 


10 


122 


WAIFS- OF IDLE HOURS. 


THE ROBIN’S NEST. 

There’s a linden tree by our cottage door 
Where, when the soft breezes of spring, 

With foliage dense had covered it o’er, 

The timidest warbler might sing ; — 

A pair of bright redbreasts their home-nest made 
In its branches, inwoven with care, 

And hid in the linden’s protecting shade ; — 

“ Sweet Home ” for the beautiful pair. 

There were moss and hair and wee bits of wool 
In the warp and the woof of their nest ; 

And threads of tinsel, they chanced to cull, 

Were deftly mingled among the rest. 

As the days went by, and the mother bird 
With ceaseless zeal for that home-nest cared, 

Her mate, with his melody lovingly heard, 

In all her devotion most faithfully shared. 

Their patient love was rewarded, ere long, 

And a nest full of fledgelings was there ; — 


WAIFS OF IDLE HOURS. 


123 


An added sweetness was lent to their song, 

Though multiplied labor and care. 

But at length of that nest the days had come 
When its occupants left it all bare ; 

The limitless ether was now their home, — 

And their wings were the partners of air. 

And I thought how like was our own dear cot 
To that nest, in its birth, in its life ; 

As well as the joys and cares of its lot, 

Undisturbed by the world’s noisy strife. 

The prattles of childhood, the music that cheers, — 
The hands full of duties each day, — 

The love that encircles and hallows the years, 

As they’re quietly passing away. 

With these, and the dearer communion of hearts 
That in sweetest of unison beat ; 

Away from the world’s gay pleasures and marts, 

Its dwellers find a blissful retreat. 

But to them, like the birds, there will come the day 
When the cottage is empty and lone ; — 

Full-fledged for the sky, they will soar away, 

To find pleasures, while mortal, unknown. 






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